


Remorse

by B_pi_writing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, POV Third Person available, this might have more ships beware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_pi_writing/pseuds/B_pi_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi Keiji is involved in a corrupt system of Patrons and Proxies. </p><p>Bokuto Koutarou is involved in a rebel organization against this system. </p><p>They meet somewhere in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Remorse (3rd POV)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506622) by [B_pi_writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_pi_writing/pseuds/B_pi_writing). 



> I love Akaashi, I swear.
> 
> This is in 1st person. Here's the URL for 3rd person if you prefer 3rd.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7506622/chapters/17063968

“Akaashi Keiji.” The old intercom crackled, my name barely recognizable though the garbled sound though somehow it's enough to cut through the classroom chatter. All voices immediately ceased trading in talking for listening. My head snapped up, searching the ceiling for the only intercom in the room, ignoring all of the eyes now focused on me. I found it easily and glared at it, knowing what it was going to say. “Please make your way to the office to prepare to serve a Proxy sentence.” I think I’ve heard the same announcement more than I’ve heard my teachers lecture. I sighed heavily, wondering what my Patron had done this time. 

Had he shoplifted again? Not like he needed to, the spoiled brat. Had he gotten in a fight again?

I cringed. 

I hope not. Fights always get more marks than stealing. Although, sometimes, I got lucky in my punishments for fights. Sometimes the punishments were in the form of intensive physical labor. For the many, _many_ times my Patron has gotten into fights at least half had been physical labor punishments. Because of it I have lean muscle built onto my body.

I collected my things, throwing them into the school issued bag that was basically rags by now. Standing up, I slung the satchel across my shoulders, the weight settling familiarly on my frame. To my right, Kenma made a small noise close to a whimper. I looked down at him. His features were miniscule as always but knowing him for years on end told me the way his eyes were crinkled equated to worry. His nose wrinkled the slightest, worry loudly shining in his cat like eyes. I offered a small, weak smile.

“The idiot probably stole something again. That’s only a few marks, I’ll be fine.” Kenma didn’t relax but rather narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit more. From experience, there was nothing I could do or say that would smooth out those wrinkled crimping his face. Sighing, I pushed my way towards the door. As I walked, a couple dozen eyes bore into my back. Small whispers begin, filling up the room with the sound of gossip. 

“I wonder what his Patron did _this_ time.” 

“I feel bad for him.”

“I wonder why he hasn’t dropped his Patron by now.”

“Because, _idiot_ , he literally can’t afford it, everyone knows that. You don’t have to be a genius.” 

“Yeah, he needs the credit from his Patron to pay off the debt.”

“But doesn’t he have a job? Technology crap or whatever. That should pay a lot-”

“He’s too soft. He does it for free or for food more often than not.”

“Kenma’s the one that does the actual technology work. Akaashi just helps manage it. But doing it for food doesn’t pay off debt--”

“Akaashi really needs to--”

The walk takes longer when gossip accompanies it. Although it’s nothing new, it still bothers me and I know I should let it be. But something like this is far too personal to be the popular source of gossip.

I clench my jaw, shoving the door open, escaping the ugly whispers staining my hearing. Everyone was pretty much just as familiar with my Patron as I was and I _hate_ that fact. I was called out of class the most to serve punishment time for my Patron. Once upon a time, Kenma and I were called out of the office together just as often. But then Kenma caught up with his debt and was able to pay off all of it (a rare thing to hear of overall, let alone someone his age), saving just enough to finish high school though that meant he would have to stay enrolled in this interesting school to keep up with being able to survive. I was swimming in so much debt I had to keep my Patron and enroll.

The school, or academy rather, that Kenma and I were both enrolled in was another way to pay off debt in addition to taking on a Patron. The academy trained its students in different efforts of attack. After evaluating each individual’s strong suites, the academy began to select the student’s specialties. Kenma, with his infatuation of technology, had, without any doubt, been selected for a technology field. Because he had an alarming natural ability, he had also continued to be trained in sniping. I had been selected for a hand-to-hand combat field specializing in knives. Before specialties were chosen, all students were trained as overall soldiers, including medical training. I had shown a special talent and so I was training double the time for both hand-to-hand and medicine. But because I was doubling my time and training at the school, a little more of my debt would be taken off. 

Kenma and I had been enrolled in the academy since we were eligible; age five. We were enrolled only because both of us, at the time (and, in my case, currently), had been drowning in debt.

The dimly lit hallway I walk down slowly fades into sparsely lit patches. It’s difficult to see and creates a very intimidating aura. One I’ve faced many times.

A chunk of the ceiling crashed down in front of me, spraying me with dust and little bits of plaster. The light that came down with it flickered, limply hanging from thin wires. It effectively snapped me to full awareness of my surroundings. I looked up, scanning the new hole to match the dozens of others littering the ceiling of this part of the hallway. Really, it was a miracle the academy was still standing. It’s sad to remember that this school was one of the nicer ones in the Dumps due to being a government directly controlled school.

I slide past the debris, making my way almost blindly to the main office.

“Akaashi Keiji?” I lazed my gaze over to one of the Keepers presiding outside of the main office. His voice was tired.

I responded habitually, standing at attention. “Yes, sir! Permission to speak, sir!”

He eyed me hesitantly. Then, “Granted.”

“All due respect, sir, where are Suga and Daichi?” Suga and Daichi were the usual Keepers who stood post here, a side job in addition to their specialties. They always greeted me warmly. They’ve actually been to the shop Kenma and I own a few times when training didn’t get in the way. We were an odd sort of friends, I suppose.  
The man cocked his eyebrows. “Oh, Suga and Daichi?” I nodded. “They were promoted. Captain and vice captain of your Sector’s Keepers,” he reveals. I nod again. 

“Thank you, sir!” I shout and he waves his hand in a dismissal.

“I’m the new Keeper posted here due to their promotion. Hopefully this is the last time I’ll be seeing you here. At ease, soldier. Dismiss.”

 _Trust me, you’ll get to know me quite well if you stay here._ I salute, already turning to walk into the office. I push the heavy oak doors out of the way. A gush of cool air greets me as I walk in. It’s oddly comforting. I hate it.

“Akaashi?” My gaze switches to a girl behind the front desk. She offers a kind smile. Her eyes offer an apology.

I nod and go to stand directly in front of the polished wood. “Hello. I’ll check you in now.” She makes light conversation as she scrolls through the computer’s database searching for my records. She completes the check-in process, calling over a guard. “She’ll just lead you to the chamber you’ll be carrying out the Proxy duties in. Have a nice day!” Her voice has long since dissolved into plastic doll cheeriness, something dripping with sweetness to mask her otherwise unpleasant feelings.

The guard, by my surprise, doesn’t even loosely grip my arm. She simply leads the way and expects me to follow. We walk down a familiar hallway. It’s carpeted with doors leading to offices of those who work in the main office. But the false cheery presence gives way when we come upon a steel door leading to the Proxy duty chambers. They only have a few since most students enrolled in the academy don’t double up to take care of their debt. The guard opens the door using a series of codes. She pulls the door open and leads me down the cold, dim hallway. It’s all concrete, the structure of the ceiling is exposed.

I run into the back of the guard. She rolls her eyes. She had stopped in front of the door to the largest chamber. It’s the one marking the end of the hallway. Panic starts to alarm in my head. The last chamber was only used for the worst case scenarios for Proxy services. I’ve only been here once in all my years at this damned academy.  
I swallow hard.

The guard grimaces at me with pity in her expression, knowing something bad is in store for me. I give a curt nod, brushing off the look. Pulling open the door, I give one last look at the guard. I don’t really know what I was expecting to get out this final look but it certainly wasn’t a spark of hatred for this whole system glinting in her eyes as she looks from me into the room past me. We nod at each other, a simple understanding to propel my feet forward.

I step into the room. It’s large and cold, unwelcoming, dooming. If I squint I can see the reddish brown stains littering the middle of the room where a spotlight shines down like a mockery of some cruel heaven. There’s a large mirror on one side of the wall. The rest of the room is lost in shadows. The heavy door screeches to a close. I stand at attention.

“Akaashi Keiji, reporting!” I look around the room, my line of vision limited as I try not to move my head. Two figures step out of the darkness. It’s two figures whom I know well.

A familiar head of silver gleams in the light like the fine ash from a devastating fire. A dark head of hair accompanies the ash. Harmony and balance together. Yin and yang. I narrow my eyes.

Daichi’s rich voice fills the room. “As our recent promotion to captains, our first initiation process is to carry out the punishment of the first Proxy called down. As it happens to be, you are the first one to be called today.” By the formal way he speaks I realize the mirror is a one way window into the room and that their superiors must be behind the window, watching with sharp precision. Watching every minute thing to spot any weaknesses. It’s their luck -and mine- that they have to punish a friend.

Suga’s voice takes over. I try to avoid eye contact with the both of them. I try to make it easier for them to punish me. “Punishment Proxy Akaashi Keiji has the most reportings for sentences, usually for rather small things such as breaking things, stealing, etcetera. _However_.” My heart stops beating. I stop breathing. _However, what? What did he do? What the_ hell _did he do?!_ Daichi makes eye contact with me. We hold it as Suga continues speaking to the window. “Akaashi Keiji’s Patron has ran away with an account of kidnapping. The young girl he kidnapped was recovered but is facing a case of lead poisoning but she was a Lower citizen. The punishment is thirty-five leather lashes and thirty-five electric lashes. The punishment is required to be completed even if the Proxy being punished goes unconscious under the pain. In addition, the punishment Proxy will receive no government medical treatment.”

I’m in shock. The most lashes I’ve ever received was fifteen for the first infraction my Patron ever made, meant to make an impression on him as he watched the punishment so he wouldn’t break rules again. I still have the scars, can still pick them out among the new ones. I still remember my own screams. By twelve lashes I had almost passed out. I only stayed conscious through perseverance and shock. After that, my Patron hadn’t made another infraction for almost a whole year. I think the guilt from seeing a boy his same age beaten kept his bad behavior at bay although I wouldn’t be able to say. Being an Upper citizen he was allowed to know my identity. Being a Lower citizen I wasn’t allowed to know who he was. 

Because Upper City was only allowed one child per family, running away was a very large infraction. One that could be punishable by imprisonment. From the way it looks I got away with a best case scenario situation. Especially considering he had poisoned a girl. Although, she was a Lower citizen so they probably took that as a good thing to lesser my punishment because he did the damned Upper City a favor.

Suga breaks from the window, looking at me. The guilt in his gaze and in Daichi’s is too much. I feel physically smaller with their guilt piercing me. They both are stoic, their features cold, hard. Only through Suga’s eyes can I tell what they both are trying to say.

_We're so sorry, Akaashi._

I want to tell them to not worry. I want to tell them that it’s fine. I want to tell them that it’s nothing I haven’t been through before. But those are impossible things, little lies. So instead I say the most honest thing I can think of.

“It’s just my luck.”

***

Daichi grips me and pushes me down with enough force I’m tripping over my feet and crashing hard on my knees. From the corner of my eyes I see his small flinch. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What they have to prove will be far worse than a scrape on my knee. I understand it’s only for show for their superiors analyzing how they handle the punishment

How they handled cutting into the skin of, not only a human being, but a friend. 

Not for the first time I catch myself wondering what forced them into this academy soldier program to pay off debt. Neither of them were orphans, so they weren’t born with debt.

Suga stares blankly at me on the floor. I flick my gaze towards him. I narrow my eyes and he snaps out of it, whatever _it_ was. Suga falls into place slightly behind Daichi at his side. I notice they both cover me from the glass and whoever is behind it, watching. I smile a little to myself. They’re giving me time to collect myself. I must be cracking.

An intercom I hadn’t noticed flows to life, the voice clearly understood. It was a much better system than the one in my classroom. “Captain Sawamura, vice captain Sugawara.” Together they stand in attention. “Continue on with the punishment.”

They salute. Suga crosses to me. He tugs my shirt above my head and discards it. He walks to get the leather lash. He holds it for a second too long. Suga gulps, passing the whip to Daichi. He hesitates as well. Daichi looks at it, eyes questioning his actions. Then he looks down at me. I give him one nod.

He raises the whip. It comes crashing down against my bare back. I scream.

***  


Hot blinding pain flashes across my vision, pulling me from darkness. I look to the corner of the room. An electric counter tells me they’re on lash twenty-three in bright, bold, evil red letters. Feeling tells me it’s the leather whip. I wonder at how many lashes that I blacked out. At that thought I hope everything is in working condition when this is all over and done with. I slip back into darkness.

 

I come to again for a few agonizing seconds. I think, _at least I can’t feel it when I’m passed out_. The next lash harshly tears open my skin, mercifully sending me into a floating nothingness.

 

The counter reads lash forty. Another _CRACK_ rings out, echoing in the small room. I feel my skin splitting at the seams down the length of my spine. A horrid smell accompanies the lash. With bland interest, I realize I’m smelling my own burning flesh. My last thought- _they must’ve moved on to the electric whip_ \- chases me into black.

 

Someone screams. My voice is hoarse, my throat on fire. The screams must be coming from me. I don’t remember screaming. Another lash slashes through flesh, this one marking fresh across my bare torso. My throat burns more. I determine it’s due to screaming, _my_ screaming. I can’t hear the sounds at this point but my throat can certainly feel it. I count the burning strips of skin proudly singing against my torso. The lashes across the front must have started at the thirty-sixth lash. I glance helplessly at the counter. 

Fifty-nine. _CRACK_. A scream. More fire.

Sixty. _CRACK_. Scream. Fire.

Sixty-one. _CRACK_. Scream. Too much fire.

_What’s with all the screaming, Keiji? Why are you always so weak? Even when you scream it’s weak. You’re so pathetic._

Darkness.

 

Something wet pours into torn skin. It burns, stinging the opened flesh. Though, my whole body’s on fire so the pain melds together, the higher intensity the only indication of a new addition to the pain. I keep my eyes closed, the only barrier I have against reality. As if from a far distance, I hear medical stats recited. I peel one eye open just enough. Kenma is blurry, but definitely Kenma.

Kenma is my emergency contact for when punishments get so bad to the point where I can’t get myself home. I’m glad he’s still there to take care of me when things go to crap.

 

***

_I must’ve passed out again, dammit._

“--care of him, Koushi. Hajime is really good at patching him up in a pinch.”

Someone sighs. “I just feel so terrible. For hurting him. He’s my friend and I just whipped him like it was _nothing_ and-and his _screams_ and--”

“Koushi.” Kenma’s voice is small but calm, sturdy. An anchor. “If you didn’t feel terrible, you wouldn’t be humane. Be glad you feel like the worst human being in the world.”

“But--”

“Suga, stop. Kenma’s right. You did what you had to for the godforsaken government. Just remember all of what you did and what you’re doing is all going towards ending this government once and--” I come around enough to recognize Daichi speaking but apparently not enough to make sense of his rambling.

I groan. “Akaashi!” Suga says a little too loudly. Daichi ceases speaking immediately.

I blink my eyes open. Kenma looks over at me. His eyes brighten. He lets out a breath he seems to have been holding. “Hey, Kenma.”

His lips twitch upward in an invisible smile. “You’re at Hajime’s right now.” It’s not for the first time I’ve ended up here. Iwaizumi, like myself, was also trained in medicine on the side of specializing in guns and all around hand-to-hand combat.

I realize I’m on my stomach, that it’s wrapped in white bandages, some spots stained pink others stained reddish brown, each faint hints of blood underneath the otherwise uninterrupted white of the bandages. I start to turn onto my side to better converse with the company surrounding me. Regret and pain floods over me instantly. 

It wasn’t the smartest decision considering the relatively fresh wounds festering all over my body. Kenma hisses at me. “ _Idiot_. Hajime! He opened his wounds again!” Footsteps pound through the open doorway. Iwaizumi appears, pulling on some plastic gloves. He sighs.

“Akaashi, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent or something like that.” I grimace. Iwaizumi snorts a laugh as he steps closer to the table I’m laying on. He sits down in a swivel chair and cuts away the ruined bandages now blossoming with fresh blood. “I have to disinfect them again since they reopened. This is gonna hurt like a bitch, just so you know. You were passed out last time I did it.”

I can’t help but give a colorless snort. “Great.”

Iwaizumi shoves a rag in my mouth. I glare at him, questioning the necessity of the gag. “Trust me, you’re gonna want it. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”  
The first thing I feel is something cold and wet sliding over my body. The second thing I feel is a severe stinging. Tears fill my eyes. My teeth bite into the cloth. For a second I think I’ve actually -finally- arrived in hell.

Daichi lifts his fingers ever so slightly to Suga’s arm. Suga turns to him, sniffing back his tears. Daichi jerks his head to the door. Getting the silent message, Suga switches his gaze back to me. “Akaashi… I hope you can forgive me.” With that, Suga heads out the door, Daichi closely following behind. Daichi pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. He opens his mouth, hesitation evident. Instead, he sighs largely, closing his lips in a thin line. Daichi nods once, his way of a farewell, as he exits the room.

“Push up on your arms and knees.” I do as I’m told and soon feel Iwaizumi’s cold hands wrapping my torso in bandages. I flinch at the temperature.

“Thank you, Hajime, for doing this on no notice.” Kenma says, gratitude shining in his voice.

Iwaizumi just shrugs. “It’s not like I’d refuse to treat someone. Especially if they’re a friend.” Iwaizumi tapes the last of my torso, the bandage job reaching up to wrap around my left shoulder. A strip of skin shows across my stomach but a quick once over tells me that it’s due to no injuries being there. Bells ring out signaling a new customer arrival.

“Yahoo, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. My eyebrows push together, puzzled. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when a tall man (though he’s not much taller than I am, only half an inch or so) walks through the doorway. “Well, who is this, Iwa-chan?” He speaks to Iwaizumi, his eyes running over my body, cold and calculating. He wears a bright smile but it’s clear it’s for show as it sends chills running up and down my spine. It’s a genuine smile of harsh calculation.  
Iwaizumi stands up and stuffs his hands in the pockets of the lab coat he’s wearing. I notice the front of it is freshly stained with blood and a not-quite-clear liquid. I realize it’s mine. I’m disgusted to say the least.

“Oikawa, back down, he’s a friend. We went to the same training academy before I graduated, or left, rather.” I carefully hop off the table to stand to properly greet him.

The man, Oikawa, nods, his smile flashing a little wider, a little more relaxed. He crosses over to Kenma and I and sticks his hand out. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, childhood friend of Iwa-chan’s!”

I grab his hand. “Nice to meet you, Oikawa-san. I’m Akaashi Keiji. And this,” I gesture to Kenma who had lost interest in Oikawa, returning to his device in hand, “is Kenma Kozume.”

“Hello, Tooru.” Kenma’s small, bored voice comes from behind me. Oikawa’s eyes widen, his smile genuine delight.

“Ken-chan! I didn’t know you were friends with Iwa-chan.” I glance behind me. Kenma shrugs. 

Kenma looks up at me and answers the question in my eyes. “He came to the shop when you were out.” Kenma doesn’t mention what for. Odd.

Oikawa clears his throat. “Actually, Ken-chan, since you’re here, I’d like to talk to you and Iwa-chan.” Oikawa looks at me and smiles apologetically. “Alone.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warns.

Oikawa waves him away. “I’m sure Akaa-chan won’t mind. Right, Keiji-chan?”

I do my best to ignore the nicknames. I nod. “Of course not. I’ll be on my way.” I bow, making way to leave.

“But,” Kenma begins to protest, “you’re hurt and-”

“I’ll be fine, Kenma. I can walk.” I turn to Iwaizumi. “Really, thank you for what you did. I couldn’t have done it myself. It’s nice to know you didn’t somehow forget everything they taught us.”

Iwaizumi grins and grabs my hand with a firm shake. “Ah, well, it’s a lot to forget. It’d be a real talent to do that.”

The corner of my lips tug upwards. “Right.”

“Sorry for Oikawa.” Oikawa makes a sound of protest. Iwaizumi sounds apologetic. “But it must be important or else he wouldn’t send you away.”

I nod. I bow again, snatching my shirt from Kenma. I make sure I’m out of sight before I tug the shirt over my head, not keen on showing visible signs of pain to Kenma. I bite my lip to keep myself from crying out. With the raise of my arms the gashes all around my chest and back stretch too wide, spreading open again. The bandage soaks up yet more blood. _I’ll take care of it when I get home._

The bells ring once more as I exit the small shop. Iwaizumi set this small place up when he graduated, using his medical training to help the unfortunate innocent who were caught in a bad deal with gangs and such. Iwaizumi does it for a small price. If people don’t have money he accepts knacks, food, and whatnot to trade. People always have stuff to trade. I’m surprised that more people don’t take advantage of his services. Maybe because it’s the lack of trust people have in everyone the moment someone is kind.

Night has fallen causing darkness to fall over the Dumps excepting the dull light, from the old street lamps, that mark uneven patches up and down the street. A cool breeze washes over me, lifting up the horrid smells of the streets. It would be cause enough for me to gag, but I grew up in it.

Every small sound sends me on alert. Walking the Dumps is dangerous enough in broad daylight, let alone a washed darkness. Dangerous because it’s not unusual to be kidnapped, raped, stabbed, mugged, murdered. It’s not unusual for bad things to happen to bad and good people alike. As these possibilities run through my mind, I’m abruptly grateful for the small blade stuffed away into the battered combat boots laced to my feet.

Angry voices sound from up ahead. If small sounds send me on alert, angry voices are much, _much_ worse. Angry voices usually belong to local gangs, local _armed_ gangs. I turn rigid. I don’t have a proper blade to fight a group with, one person, maybe, but not a whole group let alone an armed gang. I also remember I’m majorly injured. My chances aren’t looking great. My brain freezes.

A large hand clamps over my mouth, a very muscular arm barring across my shoulders, dragging me into an alleyway shrouded in darkness, the moon and few flickering streetlamps unable to reach deep into it. It catches me off guard. I was too concentrated on what was happening ahead of me to pay attention to anything else around me. Were this the academy, I’d surely be getting hell for the lack of attention. My lagging brain catches up with me. I bite into the hand, struggling against the strong arm. My attacker groans softly, huffing out annoyed breath. They don’t let go. Despite myself, I start to panic. I’m not in a state where I can handle this.

The angry voices of the gang near. They’re so infuriated that their words are clear in the dead of night.

“That damned kid. He’s done this twice to us already.”

Someone scoffs. “Don’t forget. Apparently he’s done it to some of the other gangs too.”

“Yeah! I heard that he stole some gang’s whole stash, makin’ ‘em nothin’.”

Another one growls. “That piece of owl-haired shit is dead when I get my hands on ‘im!”

The voices fade away, angrier than they first sounded, some kid who’s been terrorizing the gangs the cause of the anger. Who would be crazy enough to do that?

My attention shifts to my attacker obviously distracted as their grip on me has loosened quite considerably, though their hand still clamps down onto my mouth. I bite again and this time they let go. They mutter a few curses, their arm falling away. I spin around to face them, my fists raised. I grimace, another few gashes stretching too wide, more blood continually pouring out soaking through the bandages. It won’t be long before it stains my shirt.

My attacker is a considerably large male, muscles rippling softly through his frame. His hair stands up, but it’s the color that intrigues me more. It fades from black to white at the tips. It all strikes me as very owl-ish. I immediately connect him through the singular unique observation to the ‘owl-haired shit’ the previous, supposed gang members were cursing about. My eyes narrow. This man, whoever he may be, is dangerous. Enough so that even the gangs seem wary of him. 

By stepping out of reach, I’ve drawn him closer to me into a weak pool of light, more light shedding onto his figure. Something at his hip glints. It’s metal, hanging from a weapons belt stocked with a few different blades, two handguns, ammo. I have a knife stashed away in my boot but due to my injuries I can’t bend down to get it. Ultimately, I’m screwed over in this fight unless I can steal the blades from his belt and use it against him. Though that option is very unlikely in my injured state. The gashes have revealed that fast maneuvers prove bloody.

I risk fast movement, bringing my boot up, crouching to meet it halfway. I slip the knife from it’s hiding place. My feet slip wider, I stay in my crouch, my hands coming up in preparation.

He laughs.

“Hey, hey, hey, put that away,” he loudly says. He goes over to the nearest wall, stumbling a little bit as he goes to slide down the wall. He grunts and goes to clutch his side. From the light I see a little red starting to stain his fingers. “I’ve kinda taken one hit too many for today. Don’t really need to get stabbed.” His voice is boisterous. I keep expecting the gang members to find us quickly, causing more trouble.

Narrowing my eyes, I look to my hand holding the blade. I hesitate. The medic in me craves to treat an obviously injured patient. I drop to my knees in front of him. I take his hand away from his wound. He makes a surprised sound when I touch him but doesn’t protest against it. There is a small hole in the material of his shirt over the bottom left of his abdomen. I assume it’s the point of entry to what seems to be a clear bullet wound. “I’m going to rip open your shirt.” I don’t bother asking his permission. He attacked me earlier, he doesn’t get the formal courtesy. He shrugs and winces from the movement that pulls on his wound. I slice his shirt open, clearing away the material to peer into the wound. It’s shallow. I don’t understand what’s causing so much pain. I take my small blade and bring it to his abdomen.

“What are you doing?” He peers down at where my hands bring the blade closer to his wound.

I tell him calmly, “I’m a medic. Let me do my job. Trust me.” The owl guy looks skeptical but grins sloppily.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I refocus on the problem at hand. The wound is so shallow I can actually see the glint of the bullet lodged in torn flesh. The visual only provides more suspicion towards the supposed pain the man is feeling. Bringing the blade to the wound I lodge it further into his flesh to get a hook on the bullet to pull it out. The man grunts at the stab. I lift the bullet but it’s stubborn, unmoving. The man groans.

“Odd.” I say, still trying to lever the bullet out.

He winces and yelps loudly. “Would you _quit_ that?” He gestures with one hand towards his wound where the blade is still inside.

“The bullet isn’t coming out. Usually, in a wound this shallow, the bullet pops out with one tug.” With the blade, I lift away flesh to get a wider view of the bullet.

The man chuckles. “It’s not a usual bullet, then. Twist it. It should pop open or something like that. Bullets like that are unique to the government working gangs.”

With my fingers, I grab a hold of the small metal. It takes a few tries to twist it, the blood making my grip slippery. Finally, I catch a good hold and twist. A small popping noise comes from the action and I see small, needle thin spikes retract into the bullet. The man sighs as I rip out the metal.

“Careful,” he warns, “don’t poke yourself with it. It has some poison or whatnot that enhances pain.” I nod.

Footsteps echo off of the stone streets, getting louder. Someone is nearing. I tense up. The man before me goes rigid. I whisper, “Nod if they’re armed.”

“Okay,” he whispers loudly. I cringe. His whisper is as loud as a normal speaking volume. But I’m glad as we both are waiting in silence. My heart pounds, anxious as the footsteps get louder and louder, talking accompanying the sound.

“That owl kid’s causin’ us too much trouble,” the voice whines, high-pitched.

Another grunts. “He’s not worth lookin’ for, if you ask me. Boss havin’ us chase after some worthless owl shit.” The speaker’s voice is gruff. And much nearer.

I keep my gaze on the ‘owl kid’, waiting for a sign for action. After what seems to be an eternity, a voice sounds.

“Hey,” the first, higher voice, comes again. “Look at this.” Footsteps. Silence. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Blood, yeah.” A beat. “It’s still warm. See if there’s a trail leading to anywhere.” Footsteps. A gasp. A nod.

I whip forward, ripping the knives from his weapons belt. I turn too fast, I feel more blood spill from my wounds, but my aim remains true, going for his throat. The knives sit comfortably in my hands and leave just as quickly, singing towards their target. A knife finds itself in my target’s neck. It’s only when the knife is lodged that I realize it was a boy not much younger than I. There isn’t any time for remorse as a new threat presents itself as a large man holding up a gun. He looks from the boy’s lifeless body to me. He raises his gun. He’s aiming between my eyes. I see the muscles in his hand move as his fingers go to pull the trigger. A gunshot rings through the air. Pain doesn’t flood through my body. I’m confused even as the man’s body thumps to the ground. Slowly, cautiously, I turn to see my attacker/patient holding a gun expertly. He clutches his wounded abdomen but holds a strong arm. He lowers it and grins over at me.

“We make a good team, if I say so myself.”

My brows knit together. “I could’ve done it myself.” I feel queasy.

“Yeah, as you proved with the... other one.” He avoids mentioning it was just a little kid I killed. I’m grateful. I put a hand down on the ground. I dry heave. I feel like crap. “Hey, hey, hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.”

My vision starts to swim. “‘m fine.” This isn’t fine.

“You sure? You look like serious shit, man.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I fall, crashing to the ground behind me. My eyes slip shut. “Hey!” The man yells. “Shit, you’re bleeding a lot. Like, a _lot_. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” I notice myself starting to slip, the imprint of light on the back of my eyelids becoming darker. “Hang in there.” 

And I do try to, to stay conscious. I fail. 

Darkness washes over me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto saves Akaashi.
> 
> Akaashi learns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really happy with how this turned out though it caused me a lot of frustrated writing blocks throughout the whole thing. Finally I was able to crank this out after a while. Sorry for the wait, by the way.
> 
> Quality over quantity, right?

A frantic voice screeches, “What the _hell_ , Bo?!”

“I know, I _know_. He saved my life.” Someone sighs. Fingers curl deeper into my sides. I don’t know if it hurts or not. So many other things hurt so much worse my brain is finding it difficult to focus on lesser pains. “He took out one of the gov’s SPD bullets from my side and-and he killed some kid from a gang who was lookin’ for me. He was bleeding a lot and I didn’t know what to do so I came to base.”

Another sigh. “Bo…” the voice says gently, trailing off. The person holding me shifts. A stabbing pain comes with the new position. I groan.

A loud, “ _Shit!_ ”, tears the gentle moment.

“What?!”

The speaker’s words are rushed together. “He started bleeding a lot more.” The words sound helpless, as if there isn’t much of anything else the speaker can say.

“I’ll get someone. I think Makki might be here.” This voice responds hurriedly to the previous rushed words.

“Hurry, Kuroo!” Footsteps pound quickly, echoing slightly as they steadily get farther and farther away. “Yaku!” I feel as if I’m being rushed forward, my body bouncing against fleshy solid.

“What?” Someone snaps, clearly annoyed. “I don’t have time to deal with you and Kuroo right now. Especially if you used ketchup again to fake--”

“Yaku!”

“Wha-- Oh my _god_. Bokuto, what the _hell_?!”

A little chuckle. “You’re starting to sound like Kuroo.”

“ _Bokuto_! You’re carrying a bleeding man, snap out of it!”

The chuckling ceases. “Oh, yeah, _shit_ , sorry.”

“Bring him over here. _Now_ , Bokuto.” I’m laid across a plush surface a little too roughly. I whimper a little bit, immediately reprimanding myself for being weak.

Someone gently slaps my cheek. I swat them away weakly. “’m fine. Jus’ a lil’…” I trail off enjoying the thin darkness the cover of my eyelids provide.

“Could you open your eyes?”

With a slightly annoyed, delirious huff, I blink open my eyes. My vision is a little blurry from lack of recent use. Scanning my surroundings, I find I’m in a hospital-like room with many unused beds neatly tucked away, curtains pulled back. My gaze sweeps back to someone hovering over me. His young face is already etched faintly with lines, framed by light brown hair with the eyes to match. He is clad in a doctor’s coat. Subconscious gears in the back of my mind trust him. I decide to as well. There, behind this doctor, is the famous ‘owl-haired shit’ blinking rich amber eyes worriedly at me.

The doctor pulls out a light to examine me. Another annoyed huff escapes me. “’m not bleedin’ out. Don’t bother.” Slurred speech has weaved its way into my system.  
“But--” he tries to argue.

“’m trained, I know what ’m talkin’ ‘bout.” I pause to collect myself, hoping that my slurred words leave my speech. “Injuries caused by leather and electric whips yesterday. Need to be properly disinfected and bandaged again. Also have lost lot of blood but I don’t need a blood... person… donor, that’s the word.” My speech is no longer slurred, but it’s still lacking. Despite this handicap, the doctor listened intently.

“How many lashes in total?”

“Seventy. Thirty-five each whip. What’s it called? Coldenide? Coden? No...” I trail off, confused, reaching for the medicine that might help sober me up and wash the pain away temporarily. 

The doctor suggests, “Codeine?”

I nod, weakly lifting my hand to point in affirmation. The doctor’s eyes have gone wide along with the owl man. The doctor sets to work at an urgent pace gathering the materials needed for my treatment.

A troubled expression overcomes the owl man’s features. “Seventy lashes? Are you sure you’re okay?”

My eyes narrow at the question, brain sluggish or not my sarcasm still works expertly. “Of course ’m okay, why ’m receivin’ treatment ’n somewhere ’m probably not supposed to be.” The man rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, red dusting his cheeks. His eyes flick away from my harsh gaze.

 _For a wanted man, he sure is an idiot_.

The doctor speaks from his position hunched over at a medical table sorting out instruments. “That’s Bokuto for you.” The owl man, Bokuto, grins through his sheepishness. The doctor moves over to be directly at the side of the table I’m sitting at. “Yaku Morisuke. Stomach, please.”

“Pleasure.” I say as I comply to Yaku’s request as quickly as possible with my brain not in full gear. Black spots start dotting my vision as I turn my body around. I groan.  
Yaku’s quiet voice comes up, inquiring. “Pain?”

I answer him with a groan. 

Yaku smiles softly. I turn my head, catching the gleam of silver in the light in Yaku’s hand. I blink. Yaku flicks the tip. It’s a needle. Despite being medically trained myself, I’m deathly afraid of needles. Just being around them sets me ill at ease. “It’ll help. Sleep painkillers.” Gulping, I manage to nod my head, approving of the medicine. As a conformation cue, a new wave of pain rolls through my body, the pain causing my toes to curl.

I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the pain of the needle. “Now,” I command. I feel the press of a cold hand against the side of my neck, an alcohol wipe equally as cold cleaning the area. Yaku’s delicate hand gives my neck a small squeeze, signaling the needle about to enter. All at once, forcefully, the needle slams through to my neck, causing more pain before it takes immediate effect.

I remember crying out a small noise.

_Weak, Keiji. Always so weak._

A dreamless sleep overcame me, providing me a reprieve from the pain biting at me.

 

***

 

I once again come around to shouting. “The _hell_?!” Deja vu hits me, a vague recognition of hearing these words… yesterday? A couple hours ago? Time wasn’t very present in my recollection. Though the curtains are drawn around the bed, at a glance around I remember where I am. A medical institution, perhaps. Somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

“Look, I _know_. I’ve already gone through enough lecturing about this.”

I sit up carefully, pushing the covers away. Seeing myself clad in white cloth instead of the academy uniform I had been wearing startles me. I recognize it as a hospital gown. Silently, I thank Yaku for getting me out of the unclean clothes. A medical table sits to my left, clean clothes neatly folded on top, my worn combat boots next to them. My undergarments, washed, sit atop of the clothes. Again, I silently thank the hospitality Yaku has shown me.

An angry huff of breath. “Bokuto, I was a couple blocks away! It would have been quicker _and_ safer for both everyone here and Akaashi.”

I hop off of the bed, landing painfully on my feet. The jolt is sent riveting through my body. I grit my teeth and stretch, testing the boundaries of my injuries. The familiar pain filled pull of skin screams for me to stop as I twist my torso. A no go on that test, then. I do, however, admire the bandage job. It’s far better than what Iwaizumi or I can do. It’s something you learn with many times of practice.

Raising my arms to slip the shirt on doesn’t hurt as much as it did. The white shirt waves like a flag on my frame. I pull the black pants up and over my hips, tucking the large shirt in. I notice the pants have a pull tie in the front instead of a belt. From how they fit, someone much bigger than me must have lended me their clothes. I’m grateful.

There’s a beat of silence in the conversation. Then, “I got lost.” Another beat of silence.

“You _what_?!”

Pulling on my boots, I listen to the steadily growing amusement I’m finding in the conversation outside.

“This is why you don’t go rogue on your own Robin Hood missions. Jeez, Bokuto! I was, what, ten minutes away?! You came back to base which is, might I remind you, an hour and a half away from my shop.”

“Iwa-chan, lay off of him, will you?” _‘Iwa-chan’? Iwaizumi’s here? Oikawa’s here? Why?_ So many questions flood my thoughts at the sweet singsong whine of ‘Iwa-chan’. “I’m sure he’s already heard enough from Dai-chan.”

I notice from slipping on my boots that my knife is missing. _Dammit_. I cross to the curtains and shy them open, peeking around. Iwaizumi stands under the large entry to the hospital wing, one of his hands on his hip, the other carding through his hair, a habit he’s picked up when trying to calm himself. Oikawa stands next to him, his hand curling on Iwaizumi’s left shoulder. The man with the owl hair -Bokuto my mind hazily supplies me- is perched atop a doctor’s swivel stool. His shoulders are hunched down, his body trying to cave in on itself, trying to look smaller. An almost impossible feat given his monstrous height and build.

Iwaizumi sighs heavily. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, Bo. It’s just that… Well, you know. You really should stop going out by yourself. At least take someone when you go out like that. We’re all worried about you. And now you dragged a civilian into it.” A pause. Hesitation. Then, “We only yell at you because we care about you, Bo.”  
“Aww, such a worrying mother, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa purrs. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!” Bokuto laughs heartily as Iwaizumi swipes at a giggling Oikawa. I catch the smallest of smiles slipping onto Iwaizumi’s mouth, his expression softening with fondness. I feel my own lips tug upward, my furrowed brows relaxing.

“Oh!” I turn to the sound. It’s Yaku, a smile curling on his face. “You’re up. You slept far past the med-induced sleep. I thought it best to just let you sleep.”

My eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep?”

“Seventeen hours or so. We got a lot done on your back. Bokuto brought you in around oh-one-hundred hours.” Yaku looks at me, amused, then adds, “Looks like you’re sobered up now.”

I sigh. Seventeen hours is far too long. “What time is it now?”

“Eighteen-hundred hours.” Before I can reply to Yaku, a worried Iwaizumi catches the corner of my eye. His eyes are relieved but soon are irate.

“Iwaizumi,” I say calmly, awaiting the storm sure to blow up. Yaku, noticing the sudden tension, escapes to safety to talk with Oikawa and Bokuto. I hear shouting again. It almost makes me feel bad for Bokuto.

“Akaashi, you _idiot_! What the _hell_? You should have come back once they opened up again! You know I have an extra bed for that very reason.” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows are cinched together, his eyes set in a hard glare against me.

I reply honestly as I saw fit. “It would have been a burden on you to come back. I could have done it myself when I got home, I don’t live far. Besides, you had a meeting with Oikawa-san and Kenma--”

“Your health is worth more than any meeting--”

“It sounded important. And something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I didn’t want to interrupt for something as trivial as losing a little blood.”

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He massages the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed. “A _little_?! Akaashi--”

“Don’t, Iwaizumi. It was an unfortunate turn of events that neither you nor I could have foreseen. The lucky thing is that I ran into Bokuto-san and he brought me here.” Iwaizumi opened his mouth as to bicker once more. I sigh. “I know, I’m not supposed to be here. That much is obvious. You have some explaining to do as to why you’re here.”

Guilt gleams in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “Akaashi, I--”

I wave him off with my hand, my eyes easing from their narrowed state. I don’t say anything, only offering a smile. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but returns the small gesture.  
Oikawa comes up and slaps Iwaizumi on the back. “Ah, it’s good you two sorted out whatever thing Iwa-chan had his panties in a twist over.”

“Trashykawa!” Iwaizumi scowls, cuffing Oikawa’s head, the action lacking any sort of menace.

Oikawa whines. “Mean, Iwa-chan, mean!”

“Oikawa, Iwaizumi! Stop bickering.” Both men whip around, eyes wide, apparently recognizing whatever voice commanding the area. They slip into a soldier’s salute immediately as well as Bokuto and Yaku. I peer around the two in front of me, seeking the authoritative person arresting the room with confidence. An aged man with fading gray hair and a small beard to match stands by the archway of the door, glaring at Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Oikawa and Iwaizumi shout.

He grins at them. Immediately the tension seems to flow from their muscles. “Dismissed,” the man says with a wave of his hand. Around me, they fall out from the position. “I’m here for the kid Bokuto brought in. And Bokuto.” Iwaizumi shoots me a worried glance before returning his gaze upon the man. I step around Iwaizumi and Oikawa, coming closer to the man all the way across the room.

“I’m Akaashi Keiji, sir. Bokuto-san brought me in. I owe him my life.” I bow to the man, awaiting his response. To my surprise he laughs and claps me in between my shoulders. I cough from the sudden force.

“You do, huh?” I rise, nodding. From the corner of my eye, I see the blur of Bokuto moving forward to greet the man. “I run this whole joint with help of a handful of other people.” He pauses, eyes narrowing, calculating. He grins. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’ve been holding. “Follow me,” he says with a jerk of his head. He shoots a look at Bokuto, conveying the same message, though his eyes turned to steel. Bokuto wilts a little more, his head bowed as he obeys. Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at me. _Be careful_ , they say. I nod.

The man leads Bokuto and I away from the brightly lit hospital wing down a corridor lined with glass panels and sealed protected doors every now and then. I peer into one. It’s a lab, different colored chemicals bubbling in swirling glass tubes. Scientists are gathered around one chemical, vigorously writing on clipboards and notebooks. It seems the short hall is filled with labs serving a purpose unknown. If the scientists hard at work see us strolling down the hall, they don’t bother to spare us a glance.

From the corner of my eyes I see Bokuto still dejected, interested in his shoes. He plays with his large fingers, nervous energy coursing throughout his body, more than he knows what to do with, I can tell.

The seemingly endless number of labs cease passing by as we slip into yet another hallway, separated only by the difference in the rooms. This too is lined with glass panels marking different rooms though these panels are reflective on the outside, blocking passer bys from peering inside. I’m itching to ask what these are for, but I refrain myself from doing so, knowing I’m not in a desirable position to ask such questions.

The man continues to lead us in mystery with no comments or gestures, though Bokuto, by the looks of it, understands just where we’re going. The hallway comes to an abrupt end, a slate metal door coldly greeting us. The man stops, standing completely still. A bright beam of red light washes over his entire frame, scanning it. An automated voice speaks out of speakers I can’t quite place.

“Name, please.”

Clearing his voice, the man enunciates very clearly. “Ukai Ikkei. Two guests.”

The machine seems to be mulling over the information as if it had it’s own brain and thought process. And who knows, maybe it does. I vaguely remember Kenma excitedly mentioning something about artificial intelligence. “Granted.” The slate door opens smoothly, expanding my view onto yet another large cavern, even more people mulling about, carrying papers and manilla folders, a few people walking briskly, as if off to the most important meeting of their life with a chance of being late. Other people are hunched over desks, some typing away vigorously at top-of-the-line computers, bright screens hovering in the air.

A cavern brimming with people reasonably would make it harder to be noticed individually, but, with a seemingly important man and another man with hair like no other, it apparently is very hard to go _un_ noticed.

People first stop, lifting smiles to their faces, hands rising to greet when their eyes land on Bokuto. They very soon drop their hands, knowing frowns taking place of the smiles. From that reaction alone, I gage that this definitely isn’t a first occurrence. Perhaps it’s even a regular happening.

The man, Ukai, continually walks apace, set off with an air of importance. As we pass by all sorts of different people doing different things, my mind starts to wander, gears turning, trying to figure out what will happen. To me, to Bokuto. I wonder if I’m in trouble. If Bokuto’s in trouble. If I’ll get answers.

We come upon a section clearly separated from the rest of the busy cavern, very official looking people coming in and out every once in awhile. Ukai walks straight in, expecting us to follow. Inside, it’s completely quiet save for tapping on keys and papers rustling as people look through them. It’s not what I was expecting though I didn’t have any set. Ukai leads us to solemn rooms with windows peering inside. He opens the door to the first room and gestures to me. “If you would wait in here for me, please.”

Hesitantly, I nod. He gives me a kind, old smile as I step forward. I look back at Bokuto, if not to see something vaguely familiar before I step into something completely uncertain. Bokuto’s gaze is still trained on the floor. Sensing my eyes on him, he lifts his to look at me. He grins widely though I can still see the guilty glint in his eyes. I dip my head and duck into the room. The plaque next to the doorway reading ‘Interrogation Room 1’ catches my attention as I step into the room.

The door is immediately shut on me.

Panic rises in me, bubbling in my throat. This is a sure sign of bad things happening in the future. At least, it was never a good sign at the academy.

I remember the first time my Patron did something very bad for a couple of reasons. The punishment, for one. I was at the academy when it happened. They hadn’t announced it over the intercom. I was sitting in a political science class. What we were learning, I can’t say. Suddenly, in the middle of the lecture, the door banged open, crashing against the wall. Two Keepers dressed in their entire gear, gas mask included, forced their way in. Everyone was silent and still. They had asked for me or, rather, barked for me. I remember my small heart pounding quickly, panic seizing my thoughts. I didn’t want to answer them but I had to. I raised my small hand. They rushed over and seized my arms. The other students watched in horror. I was the first one of my class to be taken. I’m surprised I didn’t scream as little as I was. They slammed me into a room almost exactly like the one I’m in now. I waited for an hour before someone finally came and got me. I had naively thought it was over. Then they took me to get fifteen lashes harshly carved into my back. I still have the scars, able to pick them out from the rest.

I was eight.

I’ll never be able to forget that.

The door behind me opens harshly, loud boots clanking in. I flinch away, caving in on myself, not even moving to defend myself, just straight to cowering.

 _Weak, Kejii_.

I hear a chuckle. “I didn’t mean to scare you there.” I peer up and see the same man, Ukai, standing before me. He gestures to the chair. “Have a seat, Akaashi.” I oblige, pulling out a metal chair from a metal table placed perfectly center in the room. Ukai places two steaming cups on the table and takes the chair opposite from me. He sighs heavily. “I feel like I’ve known you forever, Akaashi.”

Though his words are strange, I keep silent. “Do you know where you are?”

I venture to say, “Somewhere I’m not supposed to be.” Ukai chuckles.

“I suppose that’s certainly one way to look at it.” Ukai slides over one of the steaming cups. “Chrysanthemum tea. It’ll help with the pain you must still have.”

I pull the steaming cup towards me. “Thank you.” I hesitantly take a sip. We sit in a solemn silence for a few minutes. I sense that we analyze each other during the time. I glance towards the ‘mirror’, searching in vain for friendly eyes outside, watching.

“Akaashi,” Ukai says. “I don’t know how to soften the blow you’re about to take. We’ve been watching you, Akaashi. I know, I know. That sounds very _creepy_. Unsafe, perhaps. But it’s only been for the past few months. We do this every once in awhile, really it’s quite rare, actually. I should explain, really, this ‘we’. When I say ‘we’, I’m talking about the rebellion specifically the council who would oversee something like this.”

A little bit of the tea I sipped tries to make its reappearance. I’ve heard so much about the rebellion. Have wanted to join it myself. I’ve always thought it a false rumor started to bring out those against the government so they could be exterminated. And people were wiped out. That’s why I was fooled so easily.

But it’s here, it’s real, it’s large.

“I was personally in charge of watching you, Akaashi. It was my job to determine if we could trust you enough to recruit you into the rebellion. And I hate to admit it but I was doubting we could trust you with this enormous hit. But Kenma and Iwaizumi both said to trust you, that you’d join without hesitancy.”

“Kenma and Iwaizumi?” I say slowly, not really sure I heard correctly.

Ukai chuckles. “Yes, Kenma and Iwaizumi. I can understand how odd it is to hear that, Akaashi.”

Odd, yes. My entire world feels like it’s either being turned upside down or shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. It’s hard to figure out which is happening, turning upside down or shattering.

“Yes, it is quite odd to learn that my best and only friends of many years are part of a large organization whose goal is to overthrow the government.”

Ukai chuckles again at my dry humor. “I suppose you can understand what I would like to ask. It is earlier than I would like but, given Bokuto’s mistake, I would like you to be a part of the rebellion all the same. You’d be an extremely valuable asset.” He pauses, sipping at his tea. Ukai grins at me. “So, what do you say, Akaashi?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to help the very bastards who give everyone hell, now would I?”

Ukai, the ever happy man, grins and holds out his hand. I grasp it and he shakes it very intently. “That’s great news, Akaashi! Great! Now we won’t have to kill you.” My heart seizes very tightly, my brain panicking. Ukai starts to laugh. “You should have seen your face! C’mon, we’re not that cliche. We have technology to erase your memories of this place should something like that happen. I’m an old man, Akaashi, but I’ve still got some fun in me to live. Lighten up, don’t take things so seriously all the time. You’re allowed to live a little.” He grins up at me as I shakily take a sip of the quickly cooling tea.

“I guess. You got me good.” Ukai grins, also taking a sip from his cup. “If you don’t mind, Ukai-san, would you answer some of my questions?”

“Of course. Ah, only those I can answer.” He takes another sip of his tea.

“Ukai-san, I was wondering about my friends… How they became a part of the rebellion.”

Ukai nods. “Yes. Kenma and Iwaizumi, correct?”

“Correct.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what they should tell you themselves. Though I will tell you what I feel is appropriate.” I nod, understanding the respect of space. “Kenma was born into the rebellion, he’s always been a very helpful part of it. He was an inside agent of sorts when he was enrolled into the academy. He wasn’t supposed to make friends, really, for his own protection. So he wouldn’t slip somehow. But then he made quick friends with you. Which, for us, turned out to be a very good asset. Iwaizumi, however, was forced into the academy by the government to clear out debt. About four years later, we picked him up. He’s been a double, like Kenma, ever since.” He takes another sip of his tea. “Anything else?”

I stare head on displaying a sense of authority I knew didn’t exist in me -- not here, anyway. I betrayed myself with this feeling by playing with my fingers below the surface of the table and stuttering through my words. “I was wondering if-- Will Bokuto-san be okay? It’s not his fault that I was injured and he did the best thing he thought of and I truly owe him my life, I’ll take any punishment to make up--”

“Bokuto is fine. He’s being put on a week’s probation--”

“But, Ukai-san, I said that I would--”

“Akaashi! Bokuto would have gotten a month probation if not for his act concerning you. He’s been doing a bunch of this Robin Hood shit lately and, because of his recent screw up with bringing a stranger to the base, he’s getting what he deserves. Punishments were already put in place by the council. Though luckily the stranger he dragged in was someone we’ve been wanting to recruit.” Ukai pauses, reaching for a segway to another conversation. He doesn’t find one. He continues anyways. “Now, Akaashi, you have to understand that you can’t leave here -- not for a while at the least. We’re still working on getting you removed from all records the government has on you. The government has too many records of you. In fact, we put Kenma in charge of deleting your existence. He’s also in charge of making people believe you’re dead. Of course I don’t mean to offend you but it helps that you don’t have any other friends besides Iwaizumi and Kenma.”

I don’t act offended at his comment because I’m not. It’s the way I’ve always preferred to live my life; unattached. Bad things happen when you get attached.

“For your stay here you’ll be sharing a room with Bokuto. We need someone responsible to look after the idiot owl.” Ukai laughs at his own words as he stands, collecting his things. “I’ll send the idiot in for you.” I nod at his smile. The door clicks shut behind Ukai, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Thoughts of what next are interrupted as Bokuto shyly comes in. Though I haven’t long been acquainted with Bokuto, this behavior seems highly out of character.  
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as the door shuts behind him. “Uh, hi.” His sheepishness pulls the corner of my lips up.

“Hello.” Bokuto’s eyes are blown wide. He starts to turn pink. _Has he…? Has he stopped breathing?_ “Bokuto-san? Are you alright?” Bokuto blinks at me.

“What did you just call me?”

The question catches me off guard. “Bokuto-san?” He nods. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect by calling you--”

“You’re fine! It’s just no one calls me that. It threw me off a little bit. Everyone calls me Bo usually. But you don’t have to! You can call me whatever you want. Even if it’s dickhead or something--”

“I think Bokuto-san suits you quite well.”

Bokuto grins widely, giddy at my words. It’s quite the drastic change from his sheepish entrance. “I’m still a little surprised that you remember who I am though. I mean, you were, like, out cold but also when you were awake it was kinda like you were high because you were all loopy and stuff from blood loss, plus it’s been a few hours so I just thought you’d forget me--”

“You’d be very hard to forget, Bokuto-san,” I say with a gentle smile. It’s a very genuine statement.

Bokuto looks confused. He cocks his head slightly to the side, wide eyes curious and muddled. “What?”

I smile a little more. “You’re very hard to forget," I said. "You’re a very interesting person Bokuto-san.”

“Me?”

I chuckle. “Well, you _are_ the only Bokuto-san in the room.” Color seeps into his cheeks. “I mean, not only are you a very interesting person, but you _look_ very interesting,” I say as I wave my hands in his general direction.

Bokuto smiles bashfully. “Thanks.”

I stand, sipping at my now cold tea. “Well,” I declare, “shouldn’t we be headed out?” I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Too many bad memories are triggered here.

Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, forgot why I even came in for a second.” He laughs heartily at his mistake as he exits the room.

Bokuto leads me in an odd silence out of the interrogation section. People are scarce but the handful that remain are still silent, still tapping away, still rustling papers. I see Ukai bent over someone’s shoulder, whispering and pointing at things on the screen. I wonder vaguely where everyone’s gone off to.

“Bokuto-san?” Bokuto’s amber eyes turn to look at me, wide as ever. “What’s going to happen to me? Ukai-san didn’t bother to explain.” As we walk, we shift to the larger cavern. This too has few people left, only those wishing to get this last piece of work done. The heavy environment of the previous cavern is lifted which seems to charge Bokuto’s energy to full as he begins to be more animate in the way he moves and speaks.

“You’re going to be living with me, but don’t worry it’s not like we have to share a bed, that’d be weird, but we’re sharing a living space. That’s kinda how things work around here.” As he talks, I spend my time observing as I listen to his words, hoping he’ll explain a lot of things I still don’t understand. “You see, we always work, live, and do things in pairs. Well, not everything, but at least the stuff that matters. I haven’t found my pair yet, which is rare. You find your Dyad usually when you’re really young. Not everyone has a Dyad though, but those people are uncommon, especially for soldiers, but they exist.” I shoot him a confused glance and he picks up immediately. “Your pair is called your Dyad.” Bokuto explains apologetically.

We come upon the large, metal door again, though Bokuto just pushes on a bar across the door, causing it to swing open. “Why haven’t you found your pair- Dyad yet, Bokuto-san?” We step out into the reflective hallway.

Bokuto rubs the back of his neck as he walks with a barely noticeable bounce in his step. “My friend Kuroo would have been my Dyad.” I’ve heard the name before, but I wasn’t exactly fully conscious for it to hold any real importance. “We worked best together and we know each other better than we know ourselves. But Kuroo and Kenma are an even better match than Kuroo and I could ever be.” My ears prick at the mention of Kenma.

“Kenma?” I ask, curious to hear my friend’s name.

Bokuto nods, not noticing my anticipation at Kenma’s name. “Yeah, they work like you’ve never seen before. They’re like cats. That’s really the only way to describe them. They’re so graceful together and they react so quickly with each other. It’s really like they were made specifically for each other to be a great Dyad.” Labs and their sealed doors pass by as we talk.

“Bokuto-san.”

“Mm?”

“You mentioned that Dyad live together.” Bokuto nods. “Does that mean that I’m your Dyad?”

Bokuto barks a laugh. “Oh, no, not at all! I mean, we could be, but we don’t know at all how we work together. You’re just stuck with me because I picked you up.”

I frown slightly. Not because of Bokuto but because it’s not fair for him to be forced to live with me because he saved my life. “Why couldn’t I live with Kenma or Iwaizumi?”

“Because Kenma already has his Dyad and Iwaizumi already has his.”

“So why does that mean I can’t stay with--”

“It’s because it makes for a stronger bond when only you and your Dyad live with each other. It can be bad even if someone intrudes for only one night. It’s more of a superstition than a real statistic, I think. But, it’s tradition regardless so we keep it.”

I nod, though I agree. I’ve never been one for superstition, though it sounds like a rule more than a fact, so I’ll obey. I don’t want to do anything to upset the rebellion.  
Bokuto guides us back through the brightly lit hospital wing. Yaku, hearing footsteps clacking on the tile, looks up from his work to glance at the newcomers. He smiles widely at me. “Any leftover pain?” Yaku calls from across the room, his voice carrying throughout easily.

Even though I occasionally feel pain sharp in my spine, I shake my head. It’s nothing a few days of rest won’t fix. Yaku’s eyes narrow but he lets me go without question. Bokuto leads me off to a much dimmer corridor directly connected with the hospital wing that I didn’t see before. We walk in silence, not having reason to speak. We pass by doors with numbers along with two names typed neatly under what I assume to be a room number. We pass dozens of rooms, the walk becoming mind-numbing as we pass the same blandly colored walls and doors, the tile of the corridor the same hospital white as the wing feeding into this.

“Only officials are on this floor. It’s closest to the hospital wing so if there’s ever an emergency they aren’t far away from treatment. We kinda organize floors by rank. The higher you are, the closer to the bottom you are. Reversed from what you might think.” I’m grateful for the tidbits of information Bokuto tosses my way however small they may be. After about five dozen rooms we reach a loose spiral staircase, simple in appearance. I find it odd in a place such as this but I guess there needs to be at least some decoration to keep life from being completely bland.

Bokuto clambers up the staircase and I follow. Our footsteps against the metal and Bokuto’s incessant chattering fill up the empty space. I expect Bokuto to continue walking up the staircase but he stops off at the second floor, directly above the official’s floor. There’s a door that stops us from entering. Bokuto holds his hand up and punches in a number on a keypad while chattering. He’s granted access. And from what Bokuto said earlier, I gather that he is very high up in the rebellion ranks. It surprises me. I have to remind myself that despite feeling I’ve only known Bokuto for a day or so.

Once Bokuto opens the door, I notice that this floor is set up very differently from the official’s floor. In the middle of what appears to be four sections is what looks like a living room area of sorts. There’s a few couches and chairs, all plush and comfortable looking, none matching. The lights over this section are very dim as well, making it very hard to see.

Bokuto’s going off about the food they have here. Apparently, it’s ‘too healthy’. “I swear they make us eat like rabbits.” Bokuto leads me through the living space, stopping in front of a door. A quick glance causes me to notice that above each section is a word. I see ‘ _Crow_ ’, ‘ _Neko_ ’, and ‘ _Royal_ ’. I look above me. The section Bokuto leads us into is ‘ _Owl_ ’.

 _How suiting_.

“Do they not feed you meat, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto rolls his eyes with child-like enthusiasm. “Well, yeah, but--”

I smile gently. “Then I’m afraid you don’t qualify for being on a rabbit's diet.”

“ _Akaaashhhi!_ ” Bokuto whines as he unlocks the door. My lips quirk up further.

Bokuto shoulders his way through the door opening into a small apartment -if it could be called that. If split in half, the room is symmetrical with the exception of the bathroom splitting the two sides. The room would be a mirror image if not for the fact that one side is completely untouched, the other a mess. The bed sheets are askew, the desk is cluttered with piling papers, clothes are peering out from under the bed and spilling out from dresser drawers. The sight brings a smile to my lips though I prefer to remain organized. It’s another testament to how care free Bokuto appears to be.

Through my sweep of the room I notice that there isn’t any kitchenette or something of the like. I’m about to ask when Bokuto’s voice jerks my gaze back to his.  
“We have all of our meals in the cafeteria,” Bokuto says quietly. His observance of me is quite keen. Something I didn’t expect of Bokuto. We look into each other’s eyes, searching for things of interest. A few minutes pass. No one speaks. More time passes. Bokuto clears his throat. “That’s your side,” he gestures to the clean, untouched side of the room.

My eyes don’t leave Bokuto’s face though he tries to look anywhere that isn’t me. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Pink lightly dusts Bokuto’s cheeks. “N-no problem, Akaashi.” Bokuto goes to his desk, sitting down, shuffling through some of the stacks of papers. He picks up a pen, etching into a few papers.

I stand, observing the room once more. I notice that there isn’t any personal belongings anywhere. Everything about the apartment seems to be given. There is one alarm clock sitting atop Bokuto’s dresser, red and glaring. It reads **22:35**. Time flew quickly since I woke up.

As I move a little, I feel as disgusting and unclean as dirt. I don’t really remember the last time I had a shower or something to take care of my hygiene. I shudder at the thought.

I turn to Bokuto. “Bokuto-san,” Bokuto whips his head from where he had been perched at his desk. “Could I take a shower? I feel as gross as a squid. I can’t remember the last I took a shower.”

Bokuto laughs heartily. “That gross, huh?” I nod, disgust of myself plain on my face. Bokuto points to the bathroom. “The shower times out at about five minutes. Everything you need is on a shelf inside of the shower. There should be a towel in there somewhere.”

“Thanks, Bokuto-san.” Once I close the door behind me, I appreciate the opportunity to be by myself for the first time in a couple of days. Usually I’m alone most of the time. And if I were with someone besides myself prior to being here it was Kenma who was so quiet it made me forget I wasn’t by myself half the time.

Slipping out of my lended clothes and shoes is relatively easy until I get to removing the shirt. Raising my arms still causes my skin to cry out. I tear away the excellent bandage job, not previously thinking of how I’ll wrap it up again as I throw the bloodied bandages away. I wince as I think of how the shower will feel against my skin. In my extensive experience, it always burns first before feeling somewhat better. Of course, that feeling goes away once soap gets into the wounds, unfortunately a necessary step. Free of my clothes, I accidentally catch sight of myself in the mirror. It’s not pretty. The gashes are angry, ugly things in the process of scarring. I shudder. I turn to the shower.

The shower itself looks simple enough to operate, nothing overcomplicated. I pull open the glass door and step onto the cold tile shower. I shiver from the cold blooming through my feet as I desperately turn the shower hot. When the water hits my skin, I let out a long, exhausted sigh before I notice the burning sensation across my torso. _I never thought a shower would make me feel this good_. I remind myself not to get lost in the feeling; I only have five minutes. A bottle reads ‘shampoo’, another next to it reading ‘conditioner’. I knead a glob of shampoo into my scalp, the sensation bringing another sigh of content through my lips. I’ve never heard of ‘conditioner’ but I pour some into my hair anyways after the shampoo rinses figuring that is the conditioner’s purpose. Reaching for the bar of soap, I know the pain it will cause. I grit my teeth as the soap percolates my wounds though it glides smoothly over my untouched skin. Water ceases streaming over my skin. I look down at the shower tiled floor. White soap suds mixed with water swirls down the drain. I run my hands down my face, an attempt to wake me up from the coziness produced by the enveloping warmth of the water.

I blindly reach out for a towel and pull it back in with me. I towel off and step out, careful to not drip onto the clothes. I wrap myself in the towel as I bend down and neatly fold the clothes I previously threw onto the floor. One last look in the mirror tells me that the shower was much needed. In a last ditch effort I splash some water onto my face, hoping stupidly it might make me feel better. It doesn't work. As I rise I see out of the corner of my eye perhaps the only personal item in the whole apartment; hair gel.

My lips tug into a small smile.

I scoop up my boots and clothes as I walk out. The only light comes from the bathroom and the weak light of Bokuto’s desk lamp.

“I hope you don’t mind, Bokuto-san,” I say, “I used something called ‘conditioner’. I’m assuming it was for hair. I’ve never heard of it before.” I place the clothes on the bed, my boots at the foot of my newly claimed bed.

Bokuto chuckles as he writes something down on paper. “Yeah, it’s for hair. I didn’t know what it was before I came here either, no worries.”

I nod as I shuffle through my new dresser, hoping to find clothes. I sigh when I find only boxers, thankfully at least my size. I slip on a new pair and return the no longer needed towel to the bathroom to dry. I awkwardly come back in, unsure of how to ask for clothes.

“Bokuto-san?” Bokuto hums in response. I notice his tongue is sticking out as he reads important-looking documents. I also notice the darker-growing pink still dusting his cheeks. “I hate to ask, but could I borrow some clean clothes?”

Bokuto immediately dives into his drawer as he pulls out a change of clothes for me and thrusts it into my face. I make a small noise in surprise at the sudden motion. Finally, Bokuto looks to me. He gasps dramatically.

“Bokuto-san?” I look at him in confusion, not understanding his reaction.

“Y-you’re body,” he blurts.

 _He’s disgusted of you because you’re ugly, Keiji_.

Heat rises to my whole face. I curse myself. Embarrassment is one emotion I can’t hide because my whole face burns bright red. Though it doesn’t happen very often, I still hate it when it does.

I look at the floor. “O-oh. I-- I’m sorry you had to see--”

“No!” I cast my eyes towards Bokuto, again not expecting the sudden outburst. I’m coming to discover that many things are sudden with Bokuto. “I mean, you shouldn’t feel sorry for that, it was out of your control, I only just meant…” Bokuto looks to his hands as he speaks, not wanting to meet my gaze.

“Just meant what, Bokuto-san?”

“I just meant that…,” Bokuto looks at me, his gaze suddenly cold, piercing steel. I shiver. “That whoever did that is horrible.”

I smile. Even I can feel the sad tint in it. “That is why I agreed to be a part of the rebellion, Bokuto-san. Not that I had much of a choice in the matter.” Bokuto abruptly stands up, facing me. I involuntarily take a step back. We look at each other for a while. I’m looking to figure out what the hell it is that he’s looking for. He breaks eye contact. He pulls out a drawer. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t take my eyes off of every little movement he does. I’m so focused in on his hands that I see the miniscule muscles working to perform the tasks his brain wires down. His hands unroll a thing of gauze.

I switch to staring at Bokuto’s face, preferring the movements I see there. His jaw is clenched, engrossed in unwrapping the gauze. Laugh lines are set in his skin, deep for someone his age. His lashes are long and dark, his lips pale and full, marks in them from biting constantly. There is a white scar, barely noticeable, slicing through his right brow. Gold flecks swirl in his wide eyes. A slight crooked bow appears in his nose, seemingly have been broken before, something not noticeable until you’re _really_ looking.

Bokuto brings his hands to my torso. I flinch violently away, enough to send my feet backing up to my bed. I almost fall back onto the bed itself, but I catch myself.

Bokuto looks shocked. Confused. “I’m sorry, I only meant to--”

“It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I over reacted. I’m not used to someone being so kind to me.”

Bokuto’s wide eyes become solemn. “Believe me, I understand. I should have been more considerate knowing your background, I guess. I can patch you up, if you want?” I nod my okay. His fingers move back to my torso.

“Knowing my background?” Bokuto pauses before reaching behind me, encircling me with his arms. I stiffen, not sure of his movements. I feel a taught bandage come across my back. I relax.

“Yeah. I looked through your file once they told me who you were,” Bokuto admits, pink becoming richer on his cheeks.

I narrow my eyes. “When was this?”

“Earlier today. Before you woke up.”

“And what did you see there, Bokuto-san?” Bokuto flinches at my words but he doesn’t back away. I realize a little too late that they sound much colder and harsher than I intended, though I refuse to apologize. I’ve always been very careful and protective of what people know about me. No one, not even Kenma or Iwaizumi, know of my life previous to the academy. To think a stranger knows what I haven’t permitted them to know scares me.

Bokuto’s wrap has found it’s way mid of my torso. A sign he’s almost finished. “There isn’t much there.” Bokuto glances down at me before quickly looking back to his hands. In that quick moment I caught a glimpse of guilt evident in his eyes. “The file only told me of the punishments you received for Proxy work. They sounded pretty harsh, I’m so sorry you had to live with that.”

Bokuto’s voice catches me off guard. It is thick with emotion, all of it genuine as he speaks with honesty. It pains me, this one clue. His words tell me he’s had personal experiences with much pain. Though I don’t know him and I’m wary of what he knows, he seems to be a good person. Good people shouldn’t have to go through something like I had to go through. I’m okay with what I went through; I’m not a good person.

“It’s alright. It’s what I deserved.” Bokuto is about to speak as I intercept his words. “What else did the file say?”

Bokuto glances at me, his eyes on edge. “It said you were the top of your class, that you were a prodigy. It told me that you specialize in knives and medicine.”

“It didn’t tell you anything else?” I hear myself and I wince inwardly. I sound desperate to know what he knows. Even a clueless idiot would be able to pick up on that. To think I’ve trained to keep emotion from my voice. It’s a shame really. But I’ve never had to deal with something like this before.

Bokuto, proving to be sharp, catches onto the desperation. He shows it through his silence. I watch his fingers work around my body as he finishes bandaging me. “No,” his speech is slow, careful. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Not at all,” I say confidently. My words are controlled. “You know the most dangerous things about me. The only thing you don’t know is what I can’t remember. If the file is correct, it told you I’ve been in the academy since I was five and that I’m an orphan. I’m unable to remember anything or anyone prior to that age.”

Bokuto hums as he slides his hands across my torso, patting down the bandages to assure they’ll stay in place. Heat rises to my face. I turn away. With a sudden realization, I notice this is the first time I’ve looked anywhere other than Bokuto. My face feels like it’s on fire.

“Well,” Bokuto grins, “you’re bandaged up.” I look down at what Bokuto has done. “Can’t say it’s as good as Yaku but it’ll be good enough for now. Yaku told me he put some healing salve on you. Yaku’s the best in the business and our science is top of the line. You should be healed by tomorrow morning. It’s fast acting.” Bokuto’s returned energy dissipates the remaining tension of our previous conversation.

The corners of my mouth tug upwards as I meet Bokuto’s wide eyes. “Thank you.”

Bokuto straightens his back. “Oh, you shouldn’t say that. I didn’t do anything! Yaku really did all the work. He’s the one--”

I laugh. “Bokuto-san, _thank you_.”

“For what?” Bokuto’s genuine curiosity causes me to roll my eyes. I gesture to the bandages. He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit I’m starting to pick up on. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Well…” He refuses to look at me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, hoping he believes my honesty.

Hesitation. “I guess.” More eye rolling. I sink down to the mattress, clambering between the blankets. I turn away, facing the wall. I close my eyes.

“Good night, Bokuto-san.”

The lights turn out. I hear Bokuto shuffling to his own bed. I’m almost lost to sleep when he whispers, “Goodnight, Akaashi.”

I smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait again, but I hope it was worth it!
> 
> If you have any confusion on anything, be sure to ask!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is faced with the new and unknown. Neither is safe. But he has to deal with it. He's got no choice after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so sorry!!! The wait for this was ridiculous. Writer's block was a bit of a bitch.

_An alarm blares with vibrant intensity and only increases. Sirens wail in the background at piercing volumes. Panic and chaos fill the air. It’s dark and terrifying. But all of it is fuzzy, details blurred._

_“Keiji,” someone whispers. “You need to get up; they’re coming.” I still don’t open my eyes, struggling to clutch at sleep for just a bit longer. “Keiji,_ come on _! You need to hide_ now _.”_

 _The voice is clearer. It’s a young woman’s voice. She chokes on emotion. “Keiji, my baby. My beautiful baby boy. I love you. I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m sorry that I brought you into this world in the first place. This is a world that is kind to_ no one _. But you can save it. I know you can. And you need to remember that you have the power to change anything if only you do something.” Her voice is thick, her words barely escaping. Something falls and breaks like shattering glass. My eyes finally open to see a flaming background and worry etched onto the blurry face of the woman. “But I can’t stay here, I have to go. You may never understand or forgive me for leaving, but you’re safer if you can start a new life, even if you’re touched by the very people I hate. At least you’ll be safe.” Her eyes crinkle with love and kindness even as tears spill down her face. She hums a happy tune as she caresses my cheek, the cheer ruined by the raw sadness in her voice. My eyes start to flutter._

_The alarm shrieks louder, overcoming her soft humming. Footsteps echo against cobblestone. Screams and yelling suddenly become clear. His moment with this young woman is quickly chased away._

_Chapped, scabbed lips brush my forehead. Salty fat drops splash against my skin._

_And then her long black hair sways behind her as she runs around the corner. Relief replaces my confused sadness. She has gotten away from whatever evil she was running away from. But the relief is shattered as I hear her frightened screams. For hours, she screams and sobs. Men laugh. And then she is tossed like a rag doll, back into my vision. The voices of men are fading away. She stares at me, blood gurgling from her neck. She smiles sadly when she looks at me._

_“Remember your worth. Do something to change the_ world _, my Keiji.” Then she’s closing her eyes, smiling at me._

 _And I know that this time she really has escaped the evil_.

*******

“Akaashi.” I close my eyes tighter, overwhelmed with fear from what I had witnessed. “Akaaaashi.” I keep quiet, hoping against all hope that if no sound escapes from me he would go away. So, again, I don’t reply. He pokes my cheek. “ _Akaaassshhiii_!”

The raw, instinctual need to fight springs to action without thought all from the single jarring intimate touch.

I clamp onto the intruder’s forearm and I’m pushing his head down into the mattress as I sit up. I wrench his arm up to rest on my shoulder, my other hand digging into his neck. I yank my knee out from under the confining sheets and shove it into his lower spine, a weak spot I know well from my years of training.

The intruder is grunting from both surprise and pain. My mind clears, I remember all that’s happened and why I’m here. I remember who the intruder is underneath me and realize that Bokuto hadn’t meant any harm.

A small groan escapes from both Bokuto and myself, though his is filled with pain and mine filled with regret. I had flawlessly confused reality with dreams of my past. Again.

Immediately, I clamber off Bokuto, ashamed of myself. “I am so sorry, Bokuto-san. I wasn’t aware that it was you. I apologize.” I bow my head as Bokuto collects himself, sinking back onto his heels. I peek from my position to see Bokuto rubbing his neck again. Red heat rushes to my face as I hang my head in shame.

“Gaaaah, Akaaassshi! That hurt like a bitch, jeez. _Shit_.” Bokuto’s simple forgiving cheerful attitude causes me to try to ward off a smile. Bokuto’s simplicity relieves me of nightmares of the past. Bokuto’s expressions are so refreshing, that I don’t know what’s come over me as I can’t stop myself from bubbling with laughter. “Akaashi!” Bokuto whines.

“I’m s-sorry, B-Bokuto-san,” Words are hastily squeezed in between laughter, “you’re r-right, i-it’s not that f-funny, I don’t k-know why I’m l-laughing so hard!” I hold my breath as I try to contain the laughter. One look at Bokuto has me going again.

Bokuto’s whining has long since stopped as he watches me closely as I laugh. It’s hard to decipher the look he gives me, his face scrunched in study. I try to apologize through my laugh as I wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands. I peek at him, a smile still in place on my lips. Alone with Bokuto, it’s hard to keep a smile off my face. But Bokuto himself isn’t smiling, only giving intense study of my face.

Suddenly he’s looking at me with wide, awe-struck eyes. “Bokuto-san?” I ask hesitantly. A piece of hair brushes over my ear uncomfortably. _I really should cut my hair, it’s getting too long_. I tuck the offending strand behind my ear.

Pink blossoms onto Bokuto’s cheeks. Maybe from anger after being handled like that. Especially by me, the new guy who isn’t quite trusted. But, from what I know about him, it doesn’t seem likely for Bokuto.

After a few moments of growing awkward silence does he become animated again. “Ah, sorry. Don’t worry about it. Instincts are good to have. Good to know they still work, right?” Bokuto laughs out his words. “Bathroom’s all yours by the way. I was just trying to tell you that it’s time to get up though I think you already caught onto that. I’ll just be waiting out in that couch area you saw yesterday. Some of my clothes are in the bathroom for you. We’ll get you new clothes that actually fit you later today.” Bokuto stands. His hand has once again found the back of his neck as he fumbles awkwardly through his words. “So… I’ll, uh, see you. Outside. Then...” Blearily, I nod my understanding, my smile forgotten and replaced again with my stoicness.

Bokuto smiles sheepishly as he exits, stumbling over his own feet, the door closing a bit more forcefully than intended.

My body is bursting with a warmth I’ve never felt and I panic for a moment thinking I should see Yaku and tell him what’s wrong. But it’s not an unpleasant warmth, just… unexpected. My cheeks feel hot and stretched, not used to smiling for so long. I sit, finding myself enjoying the warm feelings swirling within me. I think this might be euphoria, something I’ve heard some of my former classmates speak of.

 _Something you don’t deserve, Keiji_.

Like a switch flipped, my features resort back to their usual solemn demeanor, my cheeks no longer hurting from the new stretch. I push the covers out of the way, as I slip out of the cocoon I created for myself in the confines of sleep. I stumble through the dim apartment, if it could be called that, into the small bathroom. The water I splash onto my face is a much needed refresher. I grip the edges of the sink as I look at myself. Dark circles mark half moons under my eyes. Pale skin even paler. I look terrible, but alive. Something to marvel at in the world we live in. Wandering eyes of my reflection reveal a packaged toothbrush sitting at my hand. A slip of paper lays on top of it, kanji scrawled messily across it. In the corner is a doodle. The reflection doesn’t tell me much more than that as I switch to gaze directly at it. The kanji reads ' _for you_ ' encircled in a speech bubble drawn to connect with an adorable little owl in the corner.

My cheeks hurt again.

I brush my teeth, relieve myself, and take a relaxing shower. The clothes I clad are baggy from the lack of bulky muscle that normally fills them. I adjust them to fit as much as I can before I lace boots onto my feet. I make my bed, pulling corners taut, and turn off the limited lights of the apartment. Satisfied with what I had done, my hand reaches out to the door. My hand hovers. I pause. I don’t know what I’ll face. I’m terrified. ‘New’ is not safe. ‘Unknown’ is not safe. But I have to do it; I’ve got no other choice.

I click the door open and am met with a blare of roaring laughter.

“Kou-chan literally ran into the training post! I’m not kidding! He caught a glimpse of a rag, thought it was a mouse, a harmless _mouse_ , and ran straight into the post! He literally gave himself a concussion because of a _rag_!” Oikawa sits unceremoniously in a large chair, his long legs thrown over the sides as he holds a delicate hand to his heart, his head thrown back in laughter, brown locks bouncing as his body shakes. He’s clad in loose grey pants and a tight white v-neck shirt as if reverse of me in black pants and grey shirt. I see Bokuto’s signature hair from above one of the lengthy couches wearing the same uniform, as it seems to be, as Oikawa.

“Oh shut up, cupcake.” My attention draws to the speaker, a man with strawberry brown hair, a smirk plastered onto his face as he emerges from the section designated as ‘ _Royal_ ’. Another taller man with short, messy black hair is right by him, an identical smirk resting in his features as the other continues speaking. They wear clothes identical to mine. “You knocked yourself out because you ran into a door because you missed a turn.”

The man’s counterpart continues, his dark eyebrows raised. “That’s not even the worst part.”

“Oh?” The strawberry brunette inquires deviously, still staring knowingly at Oikawa.

“Oikawa ran into that door because he was ogling his ever beloved Iw--” A pillow slams into the man’s face. I glance to Oikawa and smile once more. His face is beet red, his eyes narrowed at the two laughing offenders.

“I swear to God Matsukawa. Hanamaki.”

The strawberry brunette grins devilishly. “Did you hear that, Mattsun? He’s not using his endearing nicknames.”

Mattsun -Matsukawa- smirks. “Uh-oh. We must be in some bad trouble, _Makki_.” The duo cackle ceaselessly. The name ‘Makki’ is vaguely familiar in my hazy memory.

Oikawa’s glare floats over, rolling his eyes, as he pauses, seeing me standing awkwardly by the door. “Keiji-kun! You’re up!” All eyes turn to me. I can feel the cold calculation of the two men -Makki and Mattsun- as they eye me for the first time. Oikawa’s surprisingly gentle presence towards me as well as Bokuto’s wide eyes and warmth reassures me.

“Akaaasshi!”

“Bo, not so loud. It’s too early.” Matsukawa whines as he plops onto a well-loved chair, Hanamaki following into his lap. Matsukawa grunts.

Bokuto whines again. “You say that every morning!”

“And I mean it every morning. We have enough loud people.”

“It’s just me and Shouyou!”

Hanamaki peaks up. “Two too many if you ask me.”

“Maaaakkkiiii!”

I stand silently as the three continue their banter, Oikawa soon joining the bout, teasing Bokuto mercilessly.

A rich voice startles me from my people watching. “Good. A silent, calculating type. It’s good to have another one of you around though we didn’t really have one to begin with. So, it’s extra good to have you.” A hand grips onto my shoulder and squeezes.

I slam the threat behind me into the wall a few feet away. A heavy thud accompanied by a grunt at the force notifies me I had estimated correctly. I whip around while they’re dazed, quickly wrapping a hand around their muscular neck, my hand reaching a few inches higher. With that I notice they’re taller than me with a large stab of annoyance. Height is an uncommon advantage to have over me though not rare. A large hand shoots up to curl around my own throat. I unlace my hand, reeling it back for a punch to the jaw. I’m midway when my fist is caught by a smaller hand.

“Keiji,” a quiet voice says dangerously. It’s Kenma’s.

Between Kenma’s scrutinizing there’s enough time to examine who I had thrown. Unruly black hair covers the majority of the right side of the man’s face, the light casting odd shadows across his handsome features. Sharp golden cat eyes, much like Kenma’s, glint with amusement, paired with an equally amused, sly grin. He’s muscular, a worthy opponent from what his build and his reactions tell me. He must have not wanted to hurt me; he looks like he could do a considerable amount of damage but he withheld. I narrow my eyes, untrusting.

Kenma lets go of my fist, throwing it away from his body down to my sides. I keep my fists clenched in case danger is once again present and I would need to exert force once again. I avert my gaze from Kenma’s so I could analyze this threat without a critical stare.

Kenma’s voice is soft but threatening. “Step away Keiji. He wasn’t trying to harm you. He’s just very... personable.” I’ve never heard this tone directed towards me before. Kenma has used it against others many times before when they would mock someone Kenma felt the need to protect. That someone was primarily me. Though Kenma may be smaller than I am he doesn’t stand for bigger people preying on the weaker or his friends. I never minded but it was nice to know that Kenma wanted to do _something_.

I relent to Kenma’s request, stepping away though I never lift my gaze from the man in front of me who continues to grin. I wonder who exactly this man is to provoke such an affectionate action from Kenma. In these moments I notice how quiet the room has gotten. I feel multiple pairs of eyes trained on my character, watching intently. Bokuto has come to stand behind me, an extra safety measure.

The man breaks the silence unceremoniously. “Oh ho ho, so you’re the miracle boy Bo wanted to save, eh?” I continue to glare at him. He chuckles, pushing his weight off of the wall. “I’m glad you’re okay, man. You know, not bleeding out is always a good thing.” His grin falls to become very apologetic. His hand subconsciously rubs at his neck, running over the faint red lines left by my own large hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I meant it as a greeting. Kind of a shit greeting now that I think of it. Sorry. But one hell of a reflex that you have! I mean, shit, I can already feel a bruise coming on.” He grins slyly again, not caring about the fact I attacked him though his intentions were pure.

My eyes soften towards him as I trust Kenma’s judgement. Kenma rolls his eyes. “This is Kuroo Tetsurou. My Dyad. Bokuto explained?” Nodding, I glance over at Bokuto. He flashes me a blinding grin.

 _So this is his best friend, his would-be_ Dyad _if not for Kenma. Explains why Kenma is so affectionate_.

“Kenma tells me you’re a friend of his from the, uh, the _academy_ , yeah?” I nod. “I never did catch your name though everyone’s been talking about the new kid on the block.” Kuroo extends a hand, naturally intimidating features soft with a matching friendly grin.

I clasp his hands as we shake, bowing my head slightly. “Akaashi Keiji. I apologize for my attack, Kuroo-san. It’s part of my programming to react that way. I never did get a say into what they put into my system.” I see the corners of Kenma’s lips turn up. Bokuto and Kuroo cock their heads in confusion.

Bokuto chirps loudly. “Oh, wow! I didn’t know that you were a cyborg! Oh my god, you look so _real_! Your file didn't say anything about that! Cool! I’ve only ever met one before but I didn’t exactly make friends with him. We were on a mission so I had to hurt him and stuff. He was really hard to get rid of! Like, he used his hand but, like, it wasn’t human it was all metal. It was really shiny too! It hurt like hell, though. I don’t really wanna fight a cyborg again-- I mean not saying I would fight you or anything--!” Kuroo glances at Kenma and chuckles, understanding.

“It was a joke, Bokuto-san,” I softly say, my lips quirked. Bokuto blinks owlishly before he scrapes his hands down his face. Kuroo laughs heartily as he casually throws an arm across Bokuto’s shoulders.

“Keiji-kun has quite the dry sense of humor.” Bokuto and Kuroo throw themselves onto the couch Bokuto had alone previously occupied. Kuroo’s long legs end up across Bokuto’s back. Kenma sits at the base of their couch, pulling out an electronic device of some sorts, fully consumed in the device within seconds. It’s one I haven’t seen him use before.

Oikawa eyes me wearily. I reciprocate. His sincere calculating is hidden by a tone of offhanded nonchalance. “Impressive, by the way Keiji-kun. We really should get you into the training room. See what you _really_ can do. I do appreciate you not shattering Kuroo. It’d be an absolute _shame_ if we happened to lose _Neko’s_ captain.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes as Oikawa laughs “Stuff it, pretty boy.”

“Glad to know I have yet another admirer, Tetsu-chan,” purrs Oikawa.

Kuroo snorts out “Yeah, you wish.”

“You're too full of yourself for your own good, Shittykawa.”

“Iwa- _chan_!”

Leaning under the ‘ _Royal_ ’ archway, Iwaizumi scowls at the whining Oikawa. “Can anyone remind me why that shithead is my _Dyad_?” Though he says harsh words, Iwaizumi is fighting back a small smile. His true smiles are something only people who have known him for awhile can detect. I allow myself the same small smile that Iwaizumi is fighting so diligently. Iwaizumi stalks over to me as the others begin criticizing each other. He grins and clasps my hand in our usual greeting. It’s always been a little too rough for my liking but I’ve gotten used to it over the years. “You holding up okay?”

I nod, my face relaxed. “Yes. Yaku-san works wonders. I’m healing very quickly, faster than I ever have before. No offense to your work, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “That’s what Yaku mainly specializes in so he’s bound to do one hell of a job. I’m just here for extra cushion.”

“What else does he specialize in?”

“He’s part of the _Neko_ squadron as their defensive specialist.”

“Is that what those names are?” I gesture to the scrawls above the entryways.

Iwaizumi looks at the doors and nods. “Yeah, they’re the different special opp squadrons. We do have a ‘powerhouse’ squad, the ‘Eagles’ though our squads are just as, if not more, capable than the ‘powerhouse’ in our own ways. The _Eagles_ are very strong despite all the crap the rest of us give them, I’ll admit.” Iwaizumi curls four of his fingers around the word _powerhouse_. “I doubt you’ll see much of them. They don’t really play nice with others. Not because they’re dicks. Just because they’re idiots who don’t really understand others outside of themselves. Even then most of them don’t even understand their captain. Not that I blame them. Their captain is a whole new category of strange.”

I hum, interested in this particular squad. “They aren’t housed here because they’re a powerhouse?”

“That and they do go out on missions specific to their exact capabilities. Their missions are usually far away for months at a time. The longest mission they had was a year or so long. When they are here they’re holed up in a cut off section far away from everyone else. They may be our powerhouse, but the _Eagles_ is filled with people that the council still doesn’t trust fully. Though they’re strange guys, I won’t deny them that they’re damn good at what they--” Iwaizumi cuts himself off as he presses his hand over his right ear. An ear piece, I assume. “Oikawa,” he barks after a minute.

Oikawa is already off the chair, punching in the numbers to the keypad of the exit door. “Ya-huh, Iwa-chan.”

“Sorry, Akaashi.” I wave Iwaizumi off as he rushes around furniture to Oikawa, calling to Kuroo. “Where’s Kai?”

Kuroo and Bokuto are also off their couch in an instant, ready for action. Kuroo shrugs. “Dunno. He wasn’t in the room when I got up. I figured he’d be out here or with Moto and Fuku. But from what Dai’s saying it sounds like all-hands-on-deck.”

Iwaizumi sighs his agreement. “Kenma you’re on call to come with us. Makki, Mattsun you too. Bo, you’re here with Akaashi.”

Bokuto protests as Hanamaki and Matsukawa rises quickly, coming to join Kenma. “What’s the call?” Hanamaki asks.

Ignoring Hanamaki’s question, Oikawa peeks his head from the opened door and looks pointedly at Iwaizumi, ignoring the question. “Iwa-chan, we have to go now. Dai-chan isn’t having an easy time--”

“I know, I can hear, dumbass,” Iwaizumi bites.

Oikawa glares. “Now, now, you’re starting to sound like Tobio.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, his warning to stay on task.

“What exactly is the situation?” Mattsun asks again, annoyance starting to leak into his words.

Oikawa’s eyes flick a calculating gaze over to me before glancing at Matsukawa. “Later. Let’s _go_ , Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi looks to Bokuto as Kenma and Kuroo file out the door behind Matsukawa and Hanamaki, their steps echoing off of the stairwell. Oikawa waits faithfully for his _Dyad_. “You stay here with Akaashi. You are not allowed to help out under _any_ circumstances, okay?”

Bokuto doesn’t seem to catch the odd emphasis Iwaizumi put onto ‘any’. Bokuto pouts, nodding. Iwaizumi turns to me. “You have permission to take him down if he tries to do anything without you there.” He smirks jokingly and I smile my acknowledgement. And as Oikawa finally starts down the stairs, Iwaizumi, the last one out, glances at me. His look carries all of his concern. I raise my eyebrows. 

He nods.

I tip my head.

He closes the door.

I’m alone with Bokuto.

Bokuto suddenly lets out a large groan, flopping dramatically over the couch. Though it’s the annoying behavior of a toddler throwing a tantrum, it’s more ridiculous than anything to find in a very large fully grown man. I find myself desperately trying to mask my giggling.

“I always have to sit out, it’s so unfair!”

I chuckle. “You don’t have a _Dyad_ , Bokuto. And I understand that’s why you can’t go. It’s dangerous to go out by yourself.”

Bokuto pops his head out from the couch to send me a glare. “Says the guy who was wandering the streets bleeding all by himself.”

“Says the man who was pissing off notorious gangs by himself,” I retort without missing a beat.

Bokuto opens his mouth to say something but comes up short and presses his mouth tight. Satisfied, I smirk. I let my mind wander to earlier, leading to a point of interest. My eyebrows knit together as I try to figure it out.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Mmm?”

“When everyone was responding to the call, why wasn’t Kenma Kuroo’s first responder when they’re _Dyads_?”

“Some calls they get require Captain’s and their Vice’s to respond and sometimes a Captain and Vice aren’t _Dyads_. It’s a weird system, but it works. The Captain and Vice are always selected by the squad as a whole whereas _Dyads_ are a more intimate connection.”

I nod, though one question pops up, seemingly and alarmingly more curious to me. “Why were Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kuroo the only who were hearing the call?”

Bokuto sits up, resting his crossed arms on the back of the couch. “Only Captain’s and Vice’s can hear certain report orders. If a situation is too touchy or something the report will go to a Captain and Vice first before they decide who they should take. Then they go to a debriefing whether it’s informal or formal. Sometimes the whole situation can be a hassle and can cause some problems but it works somehow.”

I think over what he’s said before I realize finally what’s odd. “You said Captain’s get the calls first?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says while looking cross eyed at his nose, a bored antic.

“Then why didn’t you get a call?”

Bokuto looks at me. “Why didn’t I get a call?” He repeats. “I don’t know. Sometimes the person sending out the call won’t send it to a Captain or Vice if the call is too touchy or personal for them. Something like that.”

“But aren’t you at all curious?”

“About?”

It feels odd, being the one to prod into someone even though that’s something I’m very much against. If someone does not offer their own information forward first there’s no reason for someone else to know. “About why you didn’t get the call like everyone else did. And they all gave you a look before they left. I just find it rather odd, Bokuto-san. If it was me, I’d be more than a little curious about the call.”

Bokuto is silent. He’s thinking it through. He shrugs. “I have a… condition, I guess, that sometimes gets in the way of missions and calls, especially if it can be personal or something. I’ve learned not to get too curious or caring. It’s for the best anyways.”

“So you’re put on a leash?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like what it sounds. There’s a very good reason it’s what it is. There’s a lot you don’t know, Akaashi.” Bokuto sounds a little cold in his words and I know I’ve gone too far.

We fall into a silence and this time an awkward note hangs in the air. And I can’t help but kick myself because prodding and weaseling into someone is something I hate and I turned around and did it myself.

I come around to the couch, moving to sit next to Bokuto who had slumped over the range of the bed. He brings up his knees even as his back stays on the seat of the couch to make room for me to sit. I leave a few more moments of silence before another question comes to mind.

“How is your side? I’m sorry, I never did ask.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s fine. I went to go see Makki after I left you with Yaku. He sealed it pretty quickly. It’s already healing, see?” Bokuto lifts his shirt up high enough for me to glimpse at the wound. It’s small, pink, and shiny like a healing scar is. I like to call scars like that ‘rubber’ scars because they feel and look like rubber.  
“Hanamakki’s a medic? Did he use heat to seal it?”

Bokuto nods, putting his shirt back down. “Yeah, he’s a sniper too. The heat hurt like a bitch, I will say. Makki had to shove a rag in my mouth so I wouldn’t wake or alarm anyone. Kuroo told me I was a little bitch.” Bokuto laughs at the memory.

“Why didn’t you get it sealed earlier? The type of bullet that you were explaining to me sounds like it should have been treated earlier than you let it.”

When I glance at Bokuto, he stares at the ceiling sheepishly, pink starting to dust his cheeks. He mumbles out his answer so softly that I can’t hear him. I ask him to repeat what he said and he sighs. “I said,” he starts, “I was making sure you were okay before I went and go it looked at. Yaku was too busy with keeping an eye on you and keeping up with his own duties for _Neko_ to take a look at me. And my own squad doesn’t have a medic, which is weird. So I left you with him and asked Makki to help. He’s patched me plenty of times before. And Iwaizumi would have chewed me out the whole time and I didn’t want to deal with that. I much rather would have the duo entertain me.”

I smile at the good friendships Bokuto seems to have all around. A part of me wishes I was part of those friendships. “Do you mind another question, Bokuto-san?”  
“You know, Akaashi, I thought you would be a quiet one.” Bokuto hurriedly added, “Not that I’m complaining or anything!”

I glare at Bokuto. “You can’t really blame me since my whole life has been drastically changed not even seventy two hours ago.”

“Right… So about that question?”

“Why were out a few nights ago?”

Bokuto glances away from the ceiling to gaze at me. “What night?” I give Bokuto a look. He chuckles. “I was out on a mission.”

“For the rebellion?”

“For the people.” It sounds so cheesy that I force myself to listen to him. “I was Robin-Hooding as people like to call it. I go out for a few nights at a time and do it. The council doesn’t typically get mad at me for doing it because of my, er, condition I mentioned earlier.”

I shift my body so I’m facing him. I pull my knees up to my chest to make room for myself. “Why? You know what kind of place we live in with the kind of people. Why be the good guy? Especially when practically everyone else are the bad guys.”

There I go again, sticking my nose where it probably shouldn’t be. Bokuto takes in a deep breath. “Well, Akaashi, most of everyone become who they are in order to survive. We live in a place at a time where it’s survival of the fittest. When a place is only about survival there isn’t any time for kindness. So people tend to get trampled and shoved to the bottom of the barrel by the strongest. It really and truly is ‘survival of the fittest’. And so I want to be there for the weak who can’t do this on their own. They need someone to help them. Someone needs to be there to give them hope. Hope is what brings things like the rebellion into existence. Hope brings about change for the better. And I want to be that person. I want to be the person that makes a difference, no matter how small, in a person’s life.”

“There’s more to the story.” Bokuto takes in a shaky breath at my mentioning, glancing away. “But it seems that I’ve crossed a line. That was not my intention, Bokuto-san. Forgive me. Perhaps it’s a story for another time.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto whispers. We live with a few moments of silence. I give Bokuto time. He breaks free of his revere, turning to look at me. “You could tell me a bit about yourself. You know, trade a little bit of information for what I’ve told you. But you don’t have to,” he adds worried that he’s offended me, “I’m only joking. To lighten the mood y’know.”

I smile softly at Bokuto. After all, it really is only fair. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you so pretty?” Bokuto blurts out. He seems to realize he’s spoken aloud and quickly goes to cover his mouth and sit up. “I’m so sorry,” he starts rambling apologies. “That was really weird. I just made it weird. Wow, okay. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not to say that you aren’t pretty but that it might be weird -really weird, sorry- to hear especially from another guy because I don’t even know if you’re - y’know - and I try my best not to assume because sometimes assuming just makes you an ass of yourself - get it because of the - oh, nevermind, anyways what I meant to say was--”

“I imagine it’s because of my mother.” I say this calmly, mostly to shut Bokuto up and to get this over with. Contrary to my tone, my insides feel on fire, almost as much as my face. I know on the rare occasions that I do blush I tend to use my whole body to do it. As much as I know I can’t hide, I try to anyhow. How I try, I don’t know. “I was told she was quite the beautiful young woman.”

He stares at me, a blush on his own cheeks from his embarrassment. “Right. Explains a lot.” I smile and wait for another question to come my way. “There was one thing--”  
“Bokuto!” We turn our heads to see two boys come bursting through the door. The leading boy’s face in consumed with worry. The boy behind him with the shaved head looks angry and worried and protective.

“Hey, hey, hey! Ennoshita! Tanaka! Everyone’s left for a call, just so you know. What’s up?”

The leading boy answers quickly and efficiently. “It’s about Natsu.”

Bokuto’s brows knit together, confused. “What about her? Did she do something wrong? I told her I was gonna visit her yesterday but I didn’t have time because of stuff gramps Ukai wanted me to do so I--”

“Bokuto, Natsu was taken.”

Immediately, the natural smile falls from Bokuto’s face. His eyes quickly darken, cold steel seared into his gaze. “What?”

Ennoshita’s gaze carries the weight of the world. “Hinata Natsu was taken.”

“By who?” Bokuto’s tone is deathly serious; there is no room for anything but.

The boy behind the leading I assume to be Tanaka spits out his words. “Patron scum. Our captains carried out a Proxy punishment the other day for the kidnapping of a Lower Citizen girl.” _The situation sounds familiar_.

“She has lead poisoning,” Ennoshita says, his voice thick with sorrow.

 _Scarily familiar_.

Tanaka braves the next sentence. “You’re not going to like what’s next.”

Bokuto is annoyed. Angered. “I don’t like the whole situation.”

Ennoshita takes a breath. I can’t tell whether he’s trying to prepare Bokuto or himself for his words. “The government has her.”

 _Oh my_ god.

I find myself to be lightheaded.

 _I was the Proxy. I was the_ Proxy.

I steal a look at Bokuto and find myself wishing I hadn’t. His face was full of horror and sorrow. He had paled beyond what would have been healthy. He’s terrified. I can see his hands trembling as he balances himself using the couch.

“Give me the exact situation.” Bokuto’s voice is shaking. He’s trying so hard not to lose his cool. He’s trying so hard to be the Captain he thinks he should be.

Ennoshita isn’t sparing any details. “Tanaka and I were on patrol and sent out the alert to Ukai-san. During our patrol we noticed suspicious figures circling the Lower school above ground. We noticed, but we were too late. At this point they had already taken Natsu.” I see Bokuto flinch every time this Natsu’s name is mentioned. “She has been missing for a total of three days.”

“During my mission. My damned mission.” Bokuto’s voice is disbelieving as it rides under his breath. It’s barely audible but his tone does nothing to lessen the heartbreak I feel. Whoever this Natsu is, she’s special to Bokuto.

Despite the obvious discomfort blanketing the room, Ennoshita gulps down his fears to continue. “We weren’t able to notice her absence sooner. The school never reported her absence because, sadly, absences of Lower citizens are not uncommon and therefore not worthy of report. The school is also a shelter where students and other children, if they were to fit in, stay over night until the weekend. Because Natsu is part of an undercover identity, she stays overnight. Not to mention the school isn’t affiliated with the government nor the rebellion. Our security footage of the school had been looped, another reason why we were not able to note Natsu’s absence.”

Tanaka speaks with fire tailing his words. “If it helps, Bokuto,” _It won’t_ , “from our gathered intel we, with technological support from Kenma, were able to hunt down the perpetrators. They were very skilled, of a quality specific to government trainees. From what we were able to find out they have also been listed as Malfeasance Patrons.”

“That’s who the others are dealing with right now,” Ennoshita explains.

The room is charged with nervous, frightened, angry energy. Ennoshita is trying his best to remain calm; I see him inhaling deep breaths through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. I label that as his nervous habit/technique. Tanaka does not even try for calm, his seething anger coming off of him in waves. He grinds his teeth together in a rough fashion and I’m scared on his behalf for his enamel. And Bokuto is in the worst shape. He’s pale, his pupils are blown with fear, his hands are shaking, his breath is coming in short, uneven puffs. Whoever this girl is, she must be extremely important to cause so much pain.

Bokuto takes in a shaky breath. Surprisingly his voice comes out scarily even. If I had my eyes closed, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the amount of distress Bokuto is in. “Why did you come tell me all of this? It’s obvious no one wanted me to know and for very good reasons at that. So why tell me?”

Ennoshita and Tanaka exchange a look. Ennoshita clears his throat, turning to face Bokuto completely. “If I may speak candidly,” Bokuto nods, “the council, with all due respects, can go fuck itself.”

Bokuto is jarred by his response. So am I. “Sorry, what?”

“Hinata Natsu is adored by everyone, especially by _Crow_. Not only that, she is a legitimate important piece to her designated mission and also is extremely valuable for her abilities.”

“How does this relate to blowing off the council to tell me this?”

Ennoshita looks Bokuto hard on. “Because I know the importance of losing someone you love after you’ve already lost everything. And sometimes you’re the only one that can save that someone. So I’m simply giving you the chance to save Natsu yourself and be able to do some damage.”

A beat. “Thank you, Ennoshita.”

“The captains should be finishing their interrogation against the Malfeasance Patrons. They will leave in five minutes. Video and audio will cut out in that room in exactly seven minutes and will last for ten minutes. Kiyoko has your Robin Hooding gear. I suggest Akaashi Keiji accompany you. You’ll be needing insider information. From what we’ve been able to track Natsu is in the depths of the academy Akaashi attended.”

I’m surprised at the mention of my own name and that these people assume I’d help them. But, considering it’s Bokuto, I think I can trust him. And if this little girl is where I assume she is, I’d do anything to get a person out of a hell like that.

Bokuto is also surprised by my mention. And though he has been very trusting with me, I understand his question. “Why can’t the others come with me?”

Ennoshita smiles. “The others need to cover you. It would look too odd if one of them were to accompany you. It’s not odd that you would take the new toy out for a spin. Besides,” Ennoshita eyes me before speaking again, “Akaashi here was the Proxy for the event.”

I freeze up, my eyes glaring into Ennoshita. My heart bangs against my ribcage begging to be set free.

Bokuto’s owlish eyes turn abruptly from fear to murderous rage, his brilliant gold turning to molten revenge. He clenches his hands into fists. He cracks his knuckles and his neck loudly. And then Bokuto grins suddenly. It’s not anything like his previous smiles or cheesy grins. It’s a grin that sends chills down my spine. It’s a grin that’s deadly. It’s a grin that means _business_ and promises _destruction_.

“ _Perfect_. C’mon, Akaashi. You’re going to see what it is I _really_ do to those government pricks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter can go straight to hell. This gave me so much grief. I have revised, re-edited, rewritten this son of a bitch at least seven times. And I'm still not happy with it. So, sorry that you guys have waited for so long for this crap. But at least it will get us somewhere. Thanks for sticking around!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it... Complaints? Compliments? I'll take both in the comments (enjoyed my subtle hint?)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Remorse (3rd POV)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506622) by [B_pi_writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_pi_writing/pseuds/B_pi_writing)




End file.
